Lulu's Bizarre Adventure
by Ezit Meti
Summary: Lelouch gets a Stand instead of a Geass
1. No Colours Anymore

Disclaimer: Code Geass belongs to Sunrise. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure is property of Hirohiko Araki.

**Chapter 1: No Colours Anymore**

There are certain expectations held by many young minds; In the right circumstances, in the right time and the right place they could become a certified badass. If they were trained by ninjas or monks in some ancient martial art. If they were in an accident and half of their body was replaced with cybernetics. Or if their family was brutally slaughtered, and they swore a vow of bloody revenge, for example if their mother was slain and their sweet innocent little sister was left blind and crippled by the attack.

Now, this young man may not look like a certified badass. He was lean, tall and his eyes reflected a piercing analytical intelligence. But a badass? No. That was not the impression he left on most people. Wiseass, yes. Badass, no.

Most people hadn't seen him play a game of chess.

"This is your substitute? A high school boy?" The man sitting at one end of a chess board let out a laugh that sounded like a scavenger choking on a bone. "If you wanted to concede, you didn't need to be so entertaining while you did it!"

The boy didn't say anything at first, merely contending himself with a smile. So this was his opponent today? An overweight noble with some small talent in chess. Yes. That ancient game of wit and skill. Manipulating pieces on the board until a player is forced to concede defeat, for they have nowhere else to run. He regarded the noble with a slightly more critical eye than he deserved. He could see it so easily. Chess was all that he knew, and yet he was the most important person within his bubble. Nobody within it had ever defeated him, or at least had done so in a way that could be brushed off as luck rather than strategy or planning.

"What's your name?" the noble said.

"Lelouch Lamperouge," he replied, sitting with his back to the window. Lelouch's shadow fell over the board. It would appear that he was substituting into a losing battle. Almost all of the pawns were gone, and all that was left were the knights and a bishop.

And, of course, the king. Painted black, just like his subordinates.

Lelouch smiled at a private joke. Oh, Tobias! An arrogant noble's spirit, ripte for plucking. You really didn't have to give such a wonderful, thoughtful gift. But you do it anyway, you hopeless gambler.

A little behind him, his friend Rivalz let out a low whistle. "Even you can't win this one," he said. "It's impossible, right?"

Ah, Rivalz! If you really thought that defeat would come so easily then why would you drive here in the first place? Why risk the money when there were easier and more reliable ways to make it? Was it the thrill of the game, or were you honestly that confident in your friend's abilities? Lelouch could only speculate. It mattered little. He wasn't here for the money. He was here to rub a noble's face in their own inadequacies, and whatever their arrogance might lead them to believe they had plenty to get rubbed into.

"Nine minutes," Lelouch said, running his finger along the black king's crown. "Nine minutes is all I need."

* * *

"Just another nine minutes, then we're home free!"

Famous last words, that's what those sounded like. The operation had gone smoothly so far. The guards had been dropped without much of a struggle. Silently. Efficiently. Nobody had noticed a pair of Japanese - Oh, excuse me, "Elevens" - were monitoring the gate. Not yet. Nobody really looked at faces. They looked at uniforms. They looked at body language and listened to the meant that they were able to take point until the time arrived. Nine minutes passed like nine years, and then they saw it. The target. The truck.

Naturally, it stopped for the gate and naturally, the driver flashed their ID to the guard at point. Which is exactly when he turned and found a gun pointed right in his stupid Britannian face, which stared stupidly back at the end of the barrel.

Damn it Tamaki. What the hell is even your deal?! Stick to the plan in future. If you have a death wish try not to drag other people into it as well!

The driver fumbled for a gun, as did the man in the passenger seat and the six accompanying soldiers. Ten seconds later, those men were dead in a hail of gunfire, and another ten seconds after that the two of them were in the front of that truck hauling ass out of there hoping and praying to whatever god listened that nobody but nobody saw that. As for Ohgi, Tamaki and the others? Scattered to god knows where.

Had anyone thought to ask her, Kallen would have remarked that the part of the mission she thought would be most stressful was now over. Others would stare at her like she'd just eaten a live puppy. "But that's the easy part!" they would state, rather missing the point. Of course the easy part was the most stressful. That's when you have the most time to think of every little thing that can go wrong. That's when you see the twenty car pile up waiting for you, and it's where you start to really think hard about the consequences of failure. No time to think of that while trying to keep yourself being burned. No time to consider the consequences, no time to dwell on it and let your imagination run havoc wild.

In this case the consequences of failure involved nerve gas.

It was a funny thing. As soon as they climbed inside, Kallen felt something. It wasn't a rational feeling that she could explain, and almost certainly brought about by her knowledge of what they were carrying. A subconscious compulsion to get away from it before it got released, before it killed her in ways too horrible to articulate. That's all it was. That's all it had to be. A cowardly impulse. And if she'd learned anything in the last few minutes, it was that listening to an impulse wasn't usually the best response to a trying situation.

"Damn Tamaki! Why'd he have to go and pull that?" Nagata said. "This is the last thing we need!"

"No," Kallen said. "The last thing we need is them using that gas for whatever they had planned for it."

But she could see what he meant in the rear view mirror. They hadn't pulled out the heavy guns quite yet, but it was just a matter of time. Kallen glanced back towards the capsule and felt it again. An unceasing malevolence that threatened to swallow her whole. It was irrational. She knew that. But somehow, she kept having this single lingering thought.

Whatever is inside is worse than any gas. Far, far worse.

"To all my imperial subjects!"

Speaking of things that were toxic. Here comes their "beloved" Viceroy with a televised "moving" speech tailor made to make her blood boil.

"Can you not see my pain? Can you not see how these actions tear at my heart?" he lied. Such a pretty lie told so well. They'd swallow it down like the sweetest candy with no heed to how bad it was for them. "I have been a kind and compassionate ruler! And yet they see fit to repay that kindness with murder and theft. So be it! Their kind can only understand cruelty and rage and for this we must offer them our pity. Yet we must not let it blind us! I cannot tolerate these actions! For the well being of all, I shall bring these villains to justice! On that, you have my word!"

Oh yes, Viceroy. Such a pretty mask you wore in public. It wouldn't do for the people to realise how much blood was on their hands, it wouldn't do for them to imagine that they stood upon the backs of others, that they were among the monsters. So far as the public had to know they were the civilized folk. Not oppressors but enlighteners. Dragging up the uncivilized even if against their will.

If only the world could see the man's true nature. If only the cameras kept rolling after the speech was concluded.

* * *

When he opened the door to the side room, Prince Clovis had a smile on his face that could melt ice and charm a table into performing a cartwheel. The instant the door closed, the mask dropped and General Bartley had to fight not to wince under that gaze.

"Allow me, for a moment, to recount your mistakes. Should I misunderstand the situation, please do not hesitate to correct me," Clovis said. Bartley nodded. Clovis continued, counting off his fingers while striding across the room.

"The first mistake was that you placed your proverbial eggs in the same basket. The witch and the artefact, both contained within the same vehicle! Such an ingenious security stratagem!"

"Thank you, sir!"

"Your second mistake is that you cannot tell when someone is being facetious," Clovis said. "This is unimportant for the time being and can be dealt with at a later time." He extended his hand. A bottle of wine on the table lifted off the air as though lifted by the wind itself, lifting over towards Clovis' outreached hand. He detached the cork, and tipped some of its contents into a nearby glass, which was hovering in the air. Bartley stared at the display in fascination as Clovis continued, back turned towards him.

"Your third mistake was indicating the contents were poison gas: The perfect target for terrorists to strike! Why not place a giant neon sign over it, begging for their attention? Discretion, Bartley! Offer them a distraction and smuggle the important goods separately from one another and discretely!"

"I can only apologise for my failure," Bartley said. "The police have been informed it is medical equipment, but if we send the military - "

"There will be a record," Clovis finished. The glass moved into his hand, and he tipped it towards his lips before setting it back down in mid-air where it stood in place. "Right now, I don't even care. Deploy the Royal Guards. And the Knightmares."

The Royal Guards and Knightmares? For such a small group?

"I will obey, of course," Bartley said. "But are you certain such measures are necessary?"

"Your fourth mistake," Clovis said. The bottle levitated back towards the table, while the glass followed shortly behind Clovis as he walked across the war room. "Your failure to imagine the magnitude of threat to Britannia should either the witch or the artefact fall into the wrong hands."

* * *

There was little more satisfying than watching an arrogant noble find himself humiliated, beaten and bested. With no recourse but to pay or face an even greater injury to their pride. No ability to claim that it was luck or cheating, no denial, no refuge to hide behind, nothing but their own inadequacies brought to light for all to see.

Not that Lelouch was a particularly petty person or anything. Far from it. Honestly.

"I was wondering," Rivalz said, not taking his eyes from the road as he drove his rather expensive motorbike down the road leading back to Ashford Academy. "That first move after you took over the game. You started with the King. Why was that?"

"A leader's job is to lead," Lelouch said. "If he can't do that, what's the point of having a leader at all?"

Rivalz looked for a moment as though he had a further statement beyond that, but it became rather less significantly important to both of them whatever it was. A reflexive reaction that could be blamed on either of them. The truck for driving too fast or Rivalz for failing to notice it - Either could be blamed quite easily. In the end it really didn't matter. It was the larger of the two vehicles that swerved off the road, crashing through the barricade and landing on the ground below with a tremendous ear rending screech and a sickening metallic thud. Rivalz screeched to a fault, and both boys looked at one another with the same expression belying the same thought neither worded aloud: "Did we cause that?"

It took only a few seconds for the vultures to swarm. Onlookers. Gawpers. People shocked at what had happened, without the presence of mind or empathy to think about lending a hand. "Look, is it an accident?" one person would rhetorically ask. At least Lelouch hoped it was rhetorical. "Probably a drunk driver. Serves him right for being so careless. Idiot."

People might have died down there, and they're too busy enjoying themselves speculating over what happened. Does it matter why it happened? No! All that matters is the end result: A vehicle has crashed and its occupants may be hurt, and these idiots weren't helping at all!

"Lelouch!" Rivalz yelled. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to check if anyone down there is hurt," Lelouch replied. Now, he knew rather well that he was not the most effective person at physical activities, but even he could manage something this simple. He was on top of the vehicle in a matter of moments, knocked on the ceiling and yelled "Hey, you alright in there?"

"Finally. I've found you…"

It was weird hearing a voice inside his head. Really, truly bizarre. He must have imagined it, yes, that made sense. There was a woman in there, probably hurt by the crash, so he crawled inside the vehicle to administer whatever help he could. It depended on what he found when he got in.

Which is when the vehicle's driver made clear their intention to be absolutely anywhere but right where they are right now. At the very least, they probably weren't hurt, but he should probably let them know he was in there so they could let him out.

His hand fell upon a bizarre looking pod, the sort of thing one imagines finding in a crashed alien spaceship. Lelouch wouldn't have thought anything of it, but that brief contact sent a chill through his body. This wasn't some mere container. It wasn't a capsule. It was something different. There was something inside there, calling to him. It was as if he was standing in front of his destiny, and all he had to do was reach out and-

Gunfire shook him free of this distraction. Bullets flying through the air as thick as rain, all aimed at this humble little truck. This rather shattered his plan of introducing himself: His survival chances would plummet straight to nothing! And the same was true with other option, which could end with a broken neck or a bullet riddled corpse. Perhaps even both? No, the best thing to do was sit in the darkness and pray not to be noticed. Stay silent. Stay still. Watch for an opportunity, be patient, and then move to flee.

It was his only chance to survive. Some good samaritan he turned out to be.

* * *

He was sitting alone in the dark corner of the room during the briefing. This was how it had been since he joined up. The other volunteers would laugh and crack jokes behind his back. You know the kind. That special kind of "behind your back" where they intend for you to hear every single word in context, with the meaning as transparent as glass. Aimed at him simply because of who his father was. That was how it had been every day of the training. Every day, they'd pull pranks ranging from the immature to actually technically impressive. How they'd gotten that much spoiled sour cream into his sock drawer, he'd still not puzzled through.

But through it all he persevered. He pushed forward through each new dawn of each new day. They couldn't touch him. Not the way they wanted to. He didn't react to any of it, beyond the necessary physical reactions. He didn't even defend himself if they ever attacked him, which they did on occasion. Trying to put the showoff in his place. Still. No emotional reaction, simply because-

No. That was wrong. He did react emotionally. But it wasn't what they wanted. It wasn't the fear or the hatred or "learning his place" or any of that nonsense. It was pity. Simply pity. In order to feel big and mighty they had no other recourse but to pick on those they thought were weaker than themselves. It hurt them worse than it hurt him every time he picked himself up, didn't report them, didn't complain, didn't do anything but what was expected of him by his superiors. They assumed he was in this for the same reasons they were: Personal glory, advancing their place in society, the quest for power prestige and cold hard cash.

His name was Suzaku Kururugi. And he was performing a different kind of infiltration mission than what people might expect. He would enter the system, and change it from within. Not for the worse, not to weaken it or bring it down. For the better. He would rise in the ranks based on his own skill and ability, then prove to those at the top that even if - even assuming - men were not created equal that it did not mean a Britannian was always better than a Japanese.

So for the time being, he listened to the briefing while surrounded by other Honorary Britannians. And what he heard made his heart ache.

"Obviously, we have no way of knowing what the terrorists intend to do with the poison gas," they were told. "There are far too many targets throughout the country to count. If they are able to escape with the gas, it's impossible to calculate how many will be killed. If we don't retrieve it today, their blood will be on our hands as surely as it is on theirs."

Killers. That's all they were. Couldn't they see? Couldn't they understand? Terrorism was not the answer. All it would do was give those they most hated the reason or excuse they needed. And in the process innocent people died. Innocent Britannians. Innocent Japanese. He had expected missions that might leave a sour taste in his mouth while climbing the ranks. This was something he would do without needing to be ordered. He would do it. Not happily. He'd do it with the kind of tremendous sadness and fury those bullies during training only wished they could raise from him.

They arrived in the Shinjuku area shortly after that - The briefing had been held in a special transport designed for the purpose of getting soldiers into a developing situation with full awareness and mission details. For example: The transport was last seen in this approximate area, but it was not currently known exactly where.

"Private Kururugi," his commanding officer said. "I want you to scout ahead. We'll come after you in about five minutes. Get moving."

"Yes sir," he said, an automatic reflex after the gruelling training. It didn't take him long to find the transport. It had crashed. Very nasty. A stray piece of masonry had landed on the driver's side. If someone was still in there, they were crushed. Either dead or dying. A shame. Now they would never stand trial for what they had done.

But there was a survivor. He was wearing dark clothes that complimented his hair. He was tall, but skinny and reaching up towards the container filled with gas. It was strange, but Suzaku felt this eerie sensation, as though he was almost looking upon something that should not be in this world. An unnatural entity kept from his sight by a simple metallic container…

"That's enough mindless murder!" he yelled, startling the terrorist.

"Wait, I'm not one of-"

Suzaku had heard and seen enough. He moved through the air in much the same manner that a salmon swam through a stream. The terrorist made a futile reflexive attempt at protecting themselves from the impact, but their reaction time wasn't even a tenth of his. Pinning him to the ground was child's play.

"Planning to use poison gas? Don't play dumb with me!"

It was startling how young this person was. So filled with hate and rage, so young. It showed in his eyes. Beyond that. It showed all over his face. It showed-

"_I will destroy Britannia!"_

"My god. Lelouch? Is that you?"

Somehow it made a twisted kind of sense. Seven years. Had it really been seven years? Lelouch vi Britannia and his sister Nunnally. The three of them had been inseparable for a brief time, before the invasion, before Japan was conquered. Then on that day it all changed and Suzaku saw something within Lelouch that he'd not seen before. He saw hatred. Raw hate. A fury that was being kept cold, only so that it could be warmed at a moment's notice. A young boy that hated the nation he was born in and all they represented. A young boy that had grown up. And now a former Prince had joined a terrorist faction devoted to kicking his family's Empire out of a country.

It had that strangely sick irony to it. If Britannia would permit Honorary Britannians into the military, then surely a so called resistance group would allow disgruntled Britannians among their ranks as well.

"Suzaku…" Lelouch said, the recognition striking him as hard as it had Suzaku. It might well be possible for them both to be knocked over by a feather by this point. "You became a Britannian soldier?"

And then something terrible happened. It was like an event from a nightmare. You only see the horror out of the corner of your eye, at least at first, but then it grows and grows until it has your entire attention. At that moment, that terrible moment that you can't ignore it you begin to realise the true nature of what you are perceiving. The implications. The after effects. The cost.

The capsule was opening. The capsule filled with deadly poison gas was coming open almost of its own accord. Like the very maws of hell itself.

It is quite a telling thing what he did next. Suzaku Kururugi had a gas mask, issued to the soldiers in case the capsule did happen to open. Some in Britannia may not like the Honorary Britannians but even the staunchest Purist would find it a little silly and impractical to send them into a situation like this without at least a gas mask. It would've been a trivial matter to slap it on his own face, return to his CO and report that the terrorists had opened the capsule rather than be captured. But no. Instead he tackled Lelouch to the ground and slapped it on his friend's face, knowing that he would now face an agonising death.

What's even more telling is that it didn't matter that he knew Lelouch personally. He would have done the same thing for absolutely anyone.

Except death did not come. That white billowing cloud held no immediately apparent noxious qualities and there was far too little of it to be held within that container. More to the point, now that he could see within it was possible for both boys to behold a young girl with green hair, dressed in a straightjacket. She looked at them with eyes full of hope and life. So alive. More alive than living.

And a few seconds after that, Suzaku saw that there was something else in the container next to her. An ornate bow and arrow that gave him a strange and stomach churning sense that it, too, was alive.

* * *

There's a rather well known saying about three kinds of lies. There are lies, damned lies, and statistics. When you get right down to it that last tends to be the case simply because people fundamentally do not understand statistics nearly as well as they think they do.

Flip an ordinary coin nine times in a row. It comes up tails each time and your typical person would expect it to come up heads the next time "because it's due". Except that no, it's not. Statistics don't work that way. Reality doesn't work that way. The next coin flip has an approximately fifty percent chance of coming down one side or the other. While it is certainly unlikely that anyone would ever fairly flip a coin ten times and end up with the same result each time, it can happen and none of those coin flips have any effect on the subsequent or preceding flips.

This is the main reason Lelouch wasn't attempting to calculate the statistical likelihood of encountering Suzaku Kururugi of all people at this place and at this time. Too many variables. Too many factors. Not to mention that it had already transpired, which means the chance of it happening is already 100% by simple definition. Of all the soldiers in the Royal Guard, of all the futile attempts by the Japanese resistance to nip at Britannia's heels for him to accidentally involve himself in. No other soldier would have believed his ridiculous story. Which would have meant either summary execution, or being carted off to a "trial". Where his and Nunnally's histories would be dredged up, sparing his life but robbing both of their freedom.

Strange though this turn of events may be, this girl was stranger still. Why was she being restrained within this capsule?

"I have to say Suzaku," Lelouch said, struggling with a particularly irritating knot. "I knew Britannia have been making huge strides in weapon development, but I didn't think even they would be able to make poison gas take the form of a young woman. Nobody would ever see it coming."

"This is hardly the time for sarcasm," Suzaku said, working on undoing the restraints on the other side. They'd done a thorough job, here. Tied her arms and legs together, then tied that to the bottom and sides of the capsule. Movement must have been impossible. "They told us it was poison gas in the briefing. I never expected this."

"I'll just go ahead and add that to the list of things neither of us were expecting today," Lelouch replied. "It's growing by the minute." Ugh. This particular knot was a fair bit tighter than it looked. He gave it a good yank, too frustrated to notice his surroundings and felt his arm scrape against something just as the knot - the last of them - gave way and set the poor woman free. Lelouch yelped at the unexpected stinging sensation and heard a clatter. The bow and arrow bounced out the capsule to the ground below.

The magnitude of what just happened would not strike him immediately. Life altering events of this scale rarely do.

"Are you hurt?" Suzaku asked.

"No, just scratched myself on that arrow, I think."

It was a funny thing. Whoever this green haired beauty was, her expression went through a complete shift. It was like watching a sandcastle get washed away in the tide. There was a peculiar sad hope in her expression before as they worked to untie her, but now he was left with a sense that the word "just" in his last sentence wasn't quite the right one to use.

She lunged for his arm and inspected the injury. Not much to it. It was the kind of cut that healed almost as fast as it happened. Not very deep, scarred quickly, stung like a bitch for hours to come. The woman's body language completed its metamorphosis, and then she shrugged.

"Oh well," she said. "See you around."

Just like that she began to walk away. Without saying another word, or even a simple "thanks" for letting her out. They didn't even learn her name.

"H-Hey, wait a minute!" Suzaku yelled, almost like he was remembering that he was technically on a mission to retrieve this woman. He broke into a run overtook the woman and barred her path. "I'm sorry, but I can't just let you leave. Please, just let us know why they were keeping you in that thing."

The woman didn't even stop. She kept on walking like Suzaku wasn't even there, and when he tried to touch her shoulder something very strange happened.

The two of them had been standing in the shadow of a building. For reasons beyond Lelouch's ability to understand at that time the shadows in the area vanished. It wasn't long. Like a flash of lightning, but it left an after image from its brilliance. Then the woman continued walking. At which point Suzaku crumpled to the ground like he'd been run over with a steamroller.

Lelouch was already moving before he was consciously thinking about what to do next. What just happened there? "Suzaku?" he said. How did it go again? Check his airways, make sure they're not blocked…

"Father…" Suzaku said. "You… But you're dead! I - I didn't mean to!"

A traitorous part of his mind whispered in his ear just then: Look on the bright side, Lelouch. At least now you know why she was restrained like that. Oh yes, that seemed rather obvious now. Here's hoping she didn't hurt anyone else.

"Hey, come on! Snap out of it! What did she do to you?"

Suzaku blinked a few times and thankfully it seemed as though he was coming back to his senses. "Lelouch?" he said. Suzaku shook his head, like someone had filled it with cotton and he was trying to get it out. "What - What just -"

The sound of scuffling feet drew his attention. Soldiers! Well, of course. That just made sense. Of course Suzaku wouldn't have been sent out alone. Of course he was part of a squad. Of course they had sent him out to scout the area. What would happen if they found him here? The same thing he'd figured out from before. They'd either arrest him or kill him, and either option amounted to the same thing. The life he'd been living would come to an end and his sister -

Suzaku stepped forward. Lelouch thrust out his hand and, praying he remembered the code they'd developed seven years previously. Lelouch sent him a signal that amounted to. "Stay quiet. Stay still."

One could almost see the mental arithmetic of the situation play through his head. Step out there, the soldiers would inevitably see them both. If they saw Lelouch...

"No sign of Private Kururugi," one of the soldiers said. "The only unusual thing we've found is some bow and arrow. Probably worth a bit if we sell it to a museum later on."

"Funny how some folk'll pay anything for a piece of junk like that," the commanding officer said. "Alright. You keep an eye on that, the rest of you check the area. Fan out."

There was nothing else for it. Suzaku was at least keeping quiet for his sake, but they both knew their chances were slim to none. Maybe - just maybe - if he kept pressed up against this wall and kept his head down low he could stay out of sight, but all it would take is for one of them to turn their head and -

And his phone rang. In that second his ringtone went from being his favourite song to his absolute dead last. Every soldier's head turned in his direction, one even stepping right in front of him as he fumbled with the off button.

"Find anything over there?"

"No sir," the soldier said. "I thought I heard it too, but there's no one here."

There's no one here. But that was impossible. Lelouch was standing right in front of him. Nobody that blind could get into the army in any nation, or at least they wouldn't be given a gun. It wasn't just that one soldier, though. None of them could see him. Suzaku was just as confused as he was, even signing the universal question code: "What just happened here?"

Lelouch shrugged. But something caught his eye. Something on the ground in front of him. Something that didn't make any sense at all, yet simultaneously felt like the answer to his most pressing questions.

Though he had shrugged, Lelouch's shadow didn't.

* * *

There isn't all that much challenge to what she was doing today, but that didn't mean she wasn't having a little fun. Really now. Stealing something so important to Prince Clovis with only outdated frames to support them? If they had a death wish there were surely better ways to go than "suicide by Britannia". Something which might cause a little less collateral damage perhaps. Less expensive in terms of lives lost, money and time spent. Dear me. It would take them years to get the money together to repair the damage, but then again some of it was probably there long before today.

Still! Jeremiah seemed to have their main fighter well in hand. He was far more than sufficient to deal with that suicidal fool in the Glasgow. Which left her with the slightly less fun task of retrieving the item, but who was to say she couldn't kill a few terrorists along the way?

Fate, apparently. She didn't find anyone before spotting the wrecked vehicle and the stolen capsule. She burst into the scene like an eagle grabbing lunch and quickly took in the scene while the Royal Guard present took the opportunity to regather whatever wits they had. Even when it's on your side the sudden appearance of a knightmare frame is an awe inspiring sight.

"Report," she called, carefully analysing the scene and not particularly caring for what she saw.

The CO saluted. "It is my displeasure to report that while we have recaptured the capsule, the terrorists were able to open it. There appears to be no trace of poison gas in the air."

"Of course there wasn't," she replied. "There was never poison gas in the capsule to begin with. But as far as you're concerned there might as well have been."

The CO blinked stupidly. "I don't understand."

"Orders from the Viceroy," Villetta replied. A swath of bullets efficiently cut them down to a man. "Anyone that's seen the contents without authorisation is to be killed," she said to absolutely nobody. A quick scan of the area with infrared revealed no additional heat signatures. "Like that bow and arrow you're holding, which I will now retrieve."

What was it that drove a woman like Villetta? Simply ambition. Advancement. She was inches away from the top at this point, as far up as she could ever climb. All it took was simple diligence, obeying orders and being just that damn good at her job. She was a Knight. For some people that might be enough. She wanted more than that. She wanted to be a Baroness, and this was important enough to Clovis that she might very well get that for personally turning it in.

A few quick taps on her console to lock it up, check her sidearm was loaded and she was ejecting shortly thereafter. Whoever could have guessed it would be this easy? All she had to do was walk over a few unfortunate soldiers that wandered into something above their grade, bend over, pick up something ancient and return it to home base. Done and dealt with.

Except that she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Something out of a horror movie, which might be a strange thing to think for someone that just cruelly gunned down several men without warning: Such a person should not be horrified so easily. It was an arm. Hovering in the air without an accompanying body. The sheer impossible horror of what she was seeing was enough to distract her from what was in the hand just long enough for the trigger finger to pull.

Her gun went flying and her hand felt white hot with pain. Villetta scowled, and concentrated on the arm. "Like hell I'm going to let you -"

The next bullet hit her leg mid step. The next she knew she was falling to the ground with a rock becoming an increasingly large part of her vision. The next thing she felt was a shock to the head and the next she saw was darkness.

Lelouch was trying desperately not to tremble as he approached the unconscious woman. Keep the gun straight. Keep it aimed at her in case she's faking it. A gentle nudge to the torso, rolled her over and my goodness a head injury on top of everything else? No need to kill her, then.

"Lelouch," Suzaku said. "You didn't need to shoot her! She couldn't see us either."

"She didn't need to shoot those soldiers," Lelouch said almost absently. He picked up the bow and arrow and studied it. "Interesting, isn't it? I wonder…"

"What are you doing? I don't under-"

"Stand? No. I don't either. But why would Clovis be so interested in this bow and arrow? Even he wouldn't get so obsessed over something just because it was well made." He stuck his hand into the Sutherland's shadow. Strange. He could see it but with a little effort, turn his perspective an imperceptible amount to the left and it was gone. Concentrate hard enough and he could see the veins, the bone, the muscle. Rather disgusting. Best not to linger too long on how the body actually functions.

"Lelouch, your arm! What - "

"I can turn it invisible, Suzaku! Incredible! Is this the power of the arrow? This must be why Clovis wants it so much!"

What else could he do with it? This power! A gift from fate! Perhaps even the means to advance a little quicker! He carefully placed the bow into the shadow, stepped back and smirked to himself. "Not just myself. Anything in a shadow, I can make invisible. With just a scratch… Do you really think it's a good idea to let Britannia have this kind of power? Can you imagine what they'd use it for?"

"No," Suzaku said. "But I can imagine what someone that hates Britannia might use it for. Espionage, sabotage, assassination-"

"I told you, didn't I? It's pure chance that I'm here - No, perhaps it was fate. If I hadn't been here, you would be dead. If you hadn't been here, I would have been killed by whichever soldier found me."

But it didn't appear as though Suzaku was listening to him. Instead he was kneeling next to the woman with torn strips of clothing, carefully tying around the wounds in her head and leg.

"Maybe she would have killed me," Suzaku said. "But that doesn't mean I'm just going to leave her here to bleed to death. Please, Lelouch! Let me return the bow! Maybe then this can stop."

"Did you forget about the girl?" Lelouch replied, scarcely believing what his friend was suggesting. "Did you forget they will kill you the second they see you with the arrow?"

"If that's what it takes to stop these people being killed, so be it. Maybe I can convince them to stop fighting if I return just that."

Suzaku very well might try to take this artefact with him, he could see it in his eyes. Normally there would be nothing he could do to stop this, but right now… Right now Suzaku couldn't even see the bow, and Lelouch had a few plans to stop him from grabbing it even if he did make the attempt.

"Don't be a fool! You're putting too much onto yourself. Do you really think that would end the fighting? Don't throw your life away for nothing! You can do so much more to help the world if you stay alive-"

"At what point does my life become more important than all these others? I can't turn my back on them, Lelouch! I won't do that!"

"And I won't allow anyone: Britannia or the terrorists, to use this bow to torment the weak!"

A whimper of pain interrupted the argument, and Lelouch saw the only chance this argument had of coming to anything resembling a reasonable end.

"You said you wouldn't leave her here to bleed to death. Do you really have time for this right now?"

If looks could kill there would be a hole in Lelouch's face. Suzaku wasn't trying to hide how unimpressed he was with this cowardly means of ending the discussion. But they were both so stubborn, both so certain they were right that they would probably argue until doomsday. Instead Suzaku carefully, so very delicately picked up that injured woman and began to walk off with a stride containing more purpose than distance.

"You should be able to escape this area with that new ability you have," Suzaku said. "Return home. Keep yourself safe."

"Why not carry her in the Sutherland? It would be safer and faster."

"Maybe. But she wouldn't leave it without locking the controls. Nor would she tell me the activation sequence even if she were conscious."

"Right. Stupid idea. Forget I said anything." Lelouch stepped into a nearby shadow, vanishing into it as though he had been painted jet black. He walked away, leaving the sound of footsteps echoing throughout the area…

Only to circle back into the empty square five minutes later, making a beeline for the Sutherland without any sign of Suzaku anywhere nearby.

"Don't worry so much Suzaku," he said, climbing into the cockpit with the keys jingling in his pocket. "I'll be sure to end this fight definitively." He turned to face his shadow, smiling as it waved at him. "Now, my friend. Since you saw the pilot activate security from within this cockpit, it seems that I have also been able to see it. I wonder what other abilities you allow me? But first things first! It's time for me to take my first step towards crushing Britannia underfoot! They won't stand a chance!"

* * *

**[To Be Continued |\|]**

* * *

**Stand Stat Sheet**

**Painted Black**

**User: Lelouch**

**Stats**

Destructive Power D

Speed A

Range C

Durability B

Precision A

Developmental Potential B

**Abilities**

**Fade Away: **Anything within a dark area(including a mostly black shadow) can be made completely invisible along the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Lelouch can decide how opaque he perceives an item affected by this power. By applying this secondary effect to himself, he is able to ensure that he is not blinded by turning himself invisible. Invisible items will still make sound and can still be felt. Any portion of them within a bright area will become visible again.


	2. With This, Checkmate

Disclaimer: Code Geass belongs to Sunrise. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure is property of Hirohiko Araki.

**Chapter 2: With This, Checkmate**

It must have been an odd sight, watching a young uniformed man walk across a raging war zone with an injured woman in his arms. Suzaku didn't particularly care one way or the other what anyone might think. He was preoccupied with one simple task: Getting this Knight the medical attention she needed.

Well, not just that. His day had been rather peculiar. A random encounter with a long lost friend while attempting to stop terrorists unleashing what he had been told was poison gas. That woman, those images of his father -

Had he done that? Had he really done such a terrible thing? Even to save so many people - Even in the face of stubborn pride! "Japan will not surrender," regardless of the cost of human lives… No, that short sighted pride did not justify killing him. Not even that. To kill his own father, that action would stain the soul of any man. If it did not break their spirit then it would surely create a compulsion within them to seek redemption, and even if he did not understand it himself Suzaku Kururugi had inherited one thing from his father. A stubborn refusal to back down.

_"__And I won't allow anyone: Britannia or the terrorists, to use this bow to torment the weak!"_

Which is what made it all the more galling to see that same stubborn arrogance shining in Lelouch's eyes when they argued over the arrow. The damning part of it was that Suzaku couldn't even tell them Lelouch had pulled the trigger: How could he condemn his friend? It was a similar kind of rationale to why he was saving this person's life after she had killed their own men. If Lelouch was telling the truth, if he was involved in this situation by the purest and most coincidental accident… Then the stress of the situation must have been terrible for him. Lelouch was no trained soldier. Seeing this Knight gun down her own troops, the rising fear of the situation - As smart as he was it was impossible for him to be thinking completely rationally at a time like this.

So he had felt like a cornered animal. And lashed out. It was terrible. It was immoral. _But he didn't kill her and allowed him to leave with her unconscious body, even suggesting an easier way to get her back._

No. No excuses. Lelouch had reacted in a vile manner to a vile action. Leaving Suzaku to try and protect both him and his victim at the same time. And god help him, he was going to do just that. Even if it broke him.

Which led him to another problem.

To begin with: Prince Clovis had given orders that anyone aware of the pod's contents were to be executed. Therefore, if Suzaku told them he knew what was in there he would be killed as well. Executed for nothing. Without changing anything. A futile death. Worthless. Less than worthless. Yet that wasn't the point that set him in mind towards his actions when the inevitable questions were asked. No. Not at all. Not even remotely. Because Suzaku had a question of his own. A question he couldn't ever find out the answer to on pain of death, and not just his.

That question was simply this: Who else had authority to know what was in the pod?

That was a heavier question than it seemed, and not necessarily for the reasons one might expect. Consider the logic of the situation. If Suzaku told the wrong person what was in the pod, they would be executed. Come to it, if anyone even suspected Suzaku had told the wrong person what was in the pod, they might well both get killed for their trouble. An easily avoidable pair of unnecessary deaths. Lives thrown away like garbage because he didn't know when or how to keep his mouth shut.

And how could he tell whether he was talking to a person allowed to know anyway? Ask them? This path led only to death, potentially for both of them. And that was even before Lelouch was thrown into the mix, adding entire new complications that he really did not want to deal with right at this moment. But every rational path he took, every ethical course he could take led him to a single course of action.

Lie his ass off.

* * *

Simply amazing what they could do with knightmare frames these days. Lelouch flicked some hair from his eyes and stared at the interface, easily determining it even as he looked upon it. This was not a testament to his intelligence(which was admittedly rather formidable), instead the design prowess of the team that developed the frame to begin with. The interface was so fluid and natural a toddler could control it. Provided the security was off. Intuitive wasn't a strong enough word. Basic training probably consisted of sitting in the cockpit for an hour. Then the intense training would begin with the trainees attempting to kick the shit out of each other.

What _was_ a testament to his intelligence was that what took a typical person an hour to master took Lelouch less than a minute.

So. What now? He had the means to enter the battle. He had the ability to turn objects invisible. And, ah ha, he had the ability to tap right into his enemy's secure channels **and** read the location of "friendly" units.

"Looks like I'll be able to repay your favour with even more ease than expected," Lelouch said. His shadow swirled around him with hand against forehead, miming uproarious laughter. "After all, I have to thank you for this unique ability!"

But as he approached the main area where the fighting raged on… He saw something. Among the rubble of a nearby home. Another indicator of the fate that lay ahead for him, another impossibility to throw onto the pile. A sign from above or perhaps from below. Lelouch ejected and strolled across the street, trying not to let his anger at the carelessly scattered innocent corpses take over even as he battled with his stomach to retain its contents. There was one object untouched within this scene of tragedy and death. Just one.

It was an easy story to see. A family, blissfully unaware of the death about to descend upon them. They were spending time together. Two siblings in particular seated on opposite sides of a table. Taking turns moving pieces. Each attempting to outwit the other. Little realising that neither would ultimately prevail, because neither would be given the opportunity to live long enough.

A chess set. All the pieces - impossibly - intact. Untouched by debris. Untouched by bullets. Untouched by explosives. And yet the white pieces had been stained red with blood. With one hand, he closed the eyes of the dead. With the other, he picked up the board. It was not large or ornate, not the kind he would typically use to play against nobles. The taken pieces lay within small trays attached to the side. Rather simplistic but it fit its purpose well.

"Forgive my intrusion," he said. "But I have need of this, to remind me of the scale and scope of the game I will be playing today."

Lelouch held the chessboard in a manner similar to a waiter elegantly carrying a tray. Balanced on his fingertips while he strode through the shadows with a hand behind his back, invisible to all as he returned towards his stolen Sutherland with a stolen chess set.

"Hold it right there," a Britannian soldier yelled at a cowering family. He and his comrades drew their guns level, prepared to slaughter the family where they stood. Without mercy. Without hesitation. In much the same manner, then, that Lelouch drew his own gun and shot them each in the back of the head. He did so without breaking stride. He did so without even turning his head to see where they were. Why should he, when his shadow could see where they were better than he could?

He entered the Sutherland and automatically reset the pieces with one hand while the other reactivated the slumbering metal beast. Time to play one final game with Clovis.

* * *

_It was that time of life where the sky seemed that little bit bluer, grass that little bit greener and life that much more innocent and carefree. There was an awareness of responsibility, and yet it seemed so impossibly far away. Far better to pass the day painting or playing. Or visiting relatives. The Aries Villa. What a magnificent building. Its architects had outdone themselves, creating a location that very nearly held a fairy tale aura._

_At the time it felt like nothing terrible could ever happen here. At the time…_

_A tiny little bundle of adorable energy collided with great velocity into his legs, causing him to topple over in a rather undignified manner. Not that he particularly minded. How could anyone look at that tiny face and feel bad about anything?_

_"__Hello Nunnally," he said, patting the little girl on the head. "Nice to see you as well."_

_"__Hi Clovis!" Nunnally said. "Did you come to play with big brother and me?"_

_"__I'm sure he's more here for the view once again," said another voice. Amazing how quietly and quickly she could move around, stealthier than a shadow. The woman picked up her daughter with one arm and pulled Clovis to his feet with the other. "Though I expect he will take the opportunity to play while he is here."_

_It was difficult to avoid feeling something while in this woman's presence. Even those that hated her could not help but allow themselves to be swept up in her charisma and charm. At one moment gentle as a breeze. The next, you'd have better fortune running through a brick wall. She had earned her place and as was the way with people that did so had earned an equivalent number of enemies as well. A veritable force of nature made into human flesh._

_"__Hello Marianne," Clovis said with a smile that would one day turn the legs of many women into jelly. "It is a pleasure to see you both again. Ah, but we seem to be missing someone! Where is Lelouch hiding?"_

_"__Playing chess with his tutor," Marianne said. Both she and Nunnally shared a laugh, as if at a private joke._

_"__Is that so?" Clovis said. "Well then! Perhaps I should give him a game. I'd like to see what he's capable of."_

_Chess. Yes, that ancient game of wits and skill. Every member of the family was taught how to play sooner or later. The manner in which they played could very well shape their tactical thoughts, their political movements. It could help them determine their own psychological weaknesses, or even test out those of others around them._

_"__If you want," Marianne had said, leading him into the building's stunning entrance. "But I warn you now, Clovis. He's a better player than you might expect, given his age."_

_"__You exaggerate Marianne," Clovis said with a smile. "But I suppose any mother would do the same for their own child."_

_But Marianne didn't say anything. Just smiled and continued walking along with Nunnally in her arms…_

"Prince Clovis!" Bartley said, snapping him back to the here and now/ "I have a report."

His mind returned to the present and focused upon the rather ugly face of General Bartley. Clovis tilted his head and rested two fingers against his forehead. Bartley very nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something shift around beneath him. Moving him closer by degrees towards Clovis.

"Our medical team has informed us that Private Suzaku Kururugi has brought in Villetta Nu. The Knight was brought in unconscious, having sustained two gunshot wounds and blunt trauma to her head."

Within his own mind, Clovis automatically began to sort through the names in his head. Villetta Nu… He had a rather good ability to match faces to names. Particularly for attractive women.

"Ah, yes!" Clovis said, relaxing a little in his seat. "She is a Purist, isn't she? How amusing. Rescued by an honorary Britannian! But Bartley, if amusement was what I sought then I would be passing the time doing things like this more often."

Before the General could formulate the inevitable words "Things like what?" he was already impressing Clovis with his ability to stay on his feet. What a surprising sense of balance the man had, almost more amusing to behold than the expected pratfall.

"That- That is not my report, my Prince!" Bartley said. "It is more to do with what Private Kururugi has indicated regarding the state he found the Knight! And more to the point, the transportation capsule.

"He claims that he was sent to scout the area while the rest of his squad secured the capsule. However, when he returned the capsule had opened and he found his team dead while the Knight lay unconscious with her Sutherland nearby. I have sent an investigation team to the area, and Villetta Nu appears to be in stable condition, though still unconscious."

"And the Private?"

"Lloyd felt it would be prudent to give him a medical examination, in case he was also exposed to trace amounts of the gas."

Goodness, what an unusual feeling: Sympathy for an Honorary Britannian. Lloyd might well turn the poor devil inside out, but that was no matter for the time being. What did matter was -

"Flatten Shinjuku," Clovis commanded. The floor trembled ever so slightly."Grind it into dust and sift through the wreckage. I want that girl, and I want that arrow! Arrange it so that everyone who ever even knew the person that took it regrets the day that person was born!"

His attention turned towards the map of the area. Something in its structure reminded him of a chessboard, and the blinking lights indicating his forces - But no. War was not a game of chess. A game of chess was fought between equals, with mirroring forces on flat terrain. Real war was not quite so elegant or precise or balanced. Real war -

_"__With this, I call checkmate. Better luck next time."_

Real war was far more cruel and hateful.

* * *

The Glasgow was the fourth generation of knightmare frame, the first to enter mass production. The design intention behind it had been towards a rather simple point: Contend with conventional military forces. A task which it rather over exceeded in. Throw a tank battalion at a Glasgow and even a pilot of average skill would walk away laughing while framed in the explosive deaths of his enemies. In terms of maneuverability, versatility and sheer firepower conventional forces simply couldn't keep up.

Which leads people to notice the success of this kind of weapon. Once it is known that something is technically possible and can be successful, that simply makes it all the easier for others to duplicate the success.

Which in turn led to the Sutherland, which was to the Glasgow what the Glasgow was to tanks. The Sutherland model had been made with the explicit intention of fighting other knightmare frames. And much as was the case with the Glasgow, the designers had extended themselves miles further than was strictly necessary.

Case in point: The Glasgow that Kallen was controlling was too slow, too rigid to keep up with her enemy's Sutherland. By the time she wheeled her assault rifle around to where the enemy was going to be, he was already cartwheeling elsewhere like gravity and wind resistance were optional extras.

"Is that the best you can manage?" the enemy pilot taunted. "Your spirit is admirable, but it is insufficient!" The Sutherland spun through the air, careening directly towards her. She could see the path it was taking before it even arrived, but in spite of her attempt to leap out of the way of the attack the effort was too slow, too sluggish. The enemy was inside her guard, wrenching at her arm.

"Playtime is over," the Knight said, twisting the Glasgow's arm a fraction more. "No doubt you found this discarded relic in a junkyard. Well then! I'll be taking this stolen property back!"

Another twist and she felt the Glasgow's arm pull out, but she didn't have the time to worry about that right now. Some may see it as hopeless. Some may have seen death as an inevitability and given up there and then. Kallen might agree that it was hopeless, that her death was inevitable… But to her, this had the opposite effect than giving up! Instead, it made her reach down and ignite the burning hatred anew! Kallen's anger. Kallen's fury. With every breath still in her body she would make them reach new levels of regret!

Which is how she was able to kick away from the enemy Sutherland, leaving him to throw away her Glasgow's arm in disdain. He fired slash harkens; She countered with her own, even then only keeping herself out of harm's way through passion driven instinct, the drive to stay alive a fraction of a second longer.

"The building behind you," a voice said over her comms. "Get in there! Now!"

"Who is this? How did you get on this line?"

"An angel of mercy, offering you the chance of victory. Will you take my offer? If so, head inside the building and become witness to a miracle."

Taking orders from an unknown voice… It might not be the sensible thing. It might not be logical. It might not be the smartest course of action, but her instinct was screaming the response at her at the very top of her lungs: That building is the only chance you have of making it out of here alive.

"Leaving so soon?" the Knight yelled. "Hardly any fun if you run. You two. Bring me the pilot's head."

The building was a write off. It looked like someone had taken control of a wrecking ball while drunk and fell asleep halfway through demolition. There was nowhere for her to hide in here, nowhere for her to launch a surprise attack. The shadows weren't even deep or dark enough for them to avoid seeing her. In short, she'd been deceived. Kallen wheeled around and saw them. Two Sutherlands mid-leap, spinning towards her with lethal intent. So be it! She'd take them down with her, if that's what it took!

And then like out of a nightmare, a third Sutherland just [b]appeared[/b] out of thin air. It stepped out of the corner of the room. Quickly methodically efficiently. It aimed its assault rifle, hitting one of his allies directly in the legs, and it crumpled to the ground uselessly.

"What the hell?!" the other pilot yelled, obviously thrown off his game. "Who -"

The only answer given was a slash harken to the face, leaving only the formerly invisible Sutherland standing in front of Kallen.

"Follow me," the voice said. "I have acquired some gifts for you and your friends. Quickly now."

The Sutherland stalked out of the building, and leaped outside. Almost as though he knew she would not refuse this gesture of trust. She felt a slight tug there, as though becoming aware that her destiny would be forever altered if she followed her instincts. No. Not her fate. The fate of the world itself hung on that moment. What she did now would have boundless repercussions for years to come.

Without the slightest hesitation she stepped onto the ledge, and leaped onto a passing train.

* * *

_It would seem his little brother had acquired quite the flare for the dramatic. Each time he made a move he would pick up his piece, lift it above his head and look Clovis directly into the eyes with a devious grin before placing it back on the board. That alone was entertaining enough even before the realisation that the game was more challenging than he was expecting. So adorable._

_Ah, but now he had made a crucial mistake. He had established a fork, meaning that Lelouch had to sacrifice either his Bishop or a Rook depending on his next turn.. He had left his Rook vulnerable. How could Clovis possibly refuse such a kind offering? "Knight takes Rook," he said with a slight smile. "Your move, Lelouch."_

_He didn't even think. Before Clovis had even managed to let go of the black Bishop, Lelouch had reached across the board to lift a pawn above his head. "Pawn advances. Becomes Rook."_

_Clovis chuckled to himself as he analysed the board. Yes, he could see it now. Lelouch had left his Rook vulnerable specifically with the intention of moving it into a better position with the pawn. His trap had been a wasted effort, and Lelouch had used it to his own advantage. Clever boy…[/i]_

"Enemy spotted at point F 31," a report came through. Clovis forced his mind to stop lingering in the past. The feint was obvious, almost boring. Bartley ordered the units in -

And they were destroyed almost immediately.

"Sir, reports are coming in," Bartley said. "They're using our own equipment."

"Our… Own equipment?"

"Yes sir. Sutherlands rather than Glasgows. Even so, they won't stand a chance against our superior army."

Clovis seemed to relax a little in his seat, and adopted an amused smile.

"To recap the situation, General. They have stolen vital top secret research materials and modern military equipment. I think the time has passed where we stop underestimating our enemy and take them a little more seriously. Don't you think?"

Bartley nodded and straightened himself up. Good man. Arrange for victory with our superior military prowess, put these upstarts in their place and take back what has been stolen like a good little General. Surely it should be easy. Surely -

_"__Oh dear, Lelouch. I thought you were a better player than that! On my next turn, I shall place you in -_

_"__Check. You shouldn't have sent so many pieces in at once, dear brother. You left yourself open."_

"Oh dear! It doesn't seem to be going well, does it?" said the absolute last voice Clovis needed to hear just then. Lloyd Asplund, from the Camelot research organisation. "If I may make a suggestion, why not launch our special weapon? It would deal with this crisis in a matter of moments."

"We do not have the time for this right now," Clovis calmly replied. "Bartley. Send in everyone. Even my own personal guard."

"But sir, that will leave us defenseless!"

Clovis smiled. Lloyd frowned and stared at the brick floor with a rather surprised, puzzled expression. Well. If nothing else that much certainly made Clovis' day. Baffling that arrogant scientist with something beyond his ability to understand.

"Defenseless? Are you sure about that?"

* * *

This was almost too easy. Whoever was giving commands, be it Clovis or someone else, they were being reckless. Easily led into every trap he set. Every ambush, every ploy, everything was going just as he intended.

Then he saw it: The most wonderfully stupid strategic move he had ever had the fortune to witness. A break in formation, a clear attempt to use sheer numbers to overwhelm them. Oh dear. A strategy like that at a time like this was a mark of desperation, leaving oneself completely vulnerable in the hopes that a sufficiently powerful attack was the best defense. In the process, leaving himself wide open. It was like a perfect storm of short sighted planning, inefficient resource management and reckless arrogance all rolled into one delightful package.

Perhaps a family reunion was in order. If so, it would certainly be far sooner than Lelouch could have ever dreamed. He watched the little blips of light approach the position, waited until they were all in place and then -

"Detonate the explosives. Now, if you don't mind."

It must have seemed like the gate to hell had opened up from under them. Bringing them down, down amongst the rubble, down into the darkness, down into his domain of shadow.

"I can do it," he said to himself. Painted Black flitted around the cockpit excitedly, fist pumping the air in celebration. "I really can destroy Britannia!"

* * *

As a scientist, Lloyd felt that it was his duty to ask questions. But it wasn't enough to find questions. It was also necessary to find the answers. Because once asked, a question was only half complete until the answer was found. To that end he was perfectly content with taking absolutely any means to discover answers wherever they may lie.

A few questions in particular were dancing through his mind right then, as a matter of fact. For example. What was really being transported in that capsule? It certainly couldn't have been poison gas. Neither Villetta or Suzaku showed any trace of toxicity in their system, or on their clothes and they should have been exposed to at least enough to detect something. Still: Above his level of need to know, so he could satisfy himself with finding out at a later date through alternative means.

The next question was related to Prince Clovis, who seemed almost unnaturally calm for someone undergoing such a thorough humiliation on the field. True, military leadership was not his strong suit but he should not be having even half as much difficulty in putting down a rebellion of this nature. He had the resources, he had the men, he had the more advanced technology. A person like Prince Clovis should be sweating a little. He should be dreading that the leader of this rebellion will break through and put a gun to his head at any moment and yet! And yet he seemed not too concerned with his own well being. Which led to the question:

What did he know that Lloyd did not?

"A team has recovered the capsule," Bartley said. "It is as Private Kururugi described, save one detail: Nu's Sutherland is missing from the scene. This could explain how they were able to break into our communication. We have now removed that Sutherland from our communication array."

Clovis nodded in understanding, and turned back towards Lloyd. "Can your little toy beat them?" he asked.

"Please, My Lord. Do it the honour of calling it by its name: Lancelot!"

* * *

"We have received permission to launch," Cecile said. Lloyd's assistant. It sounded like a thankless job, but she seemed nice enough. "Have you read the instruction manual?"

"Pretty much," Suzaku replied. He didn't think he'd become a Knight, at least not nearly so soon. He'd already managed to covertly acquire some training manuals, studied them in his spare time. Probably read them more than any other Knight before him.

If this particular model lived up to even half of the expectations Lloyd had offered… No, even a quarter of them! He could end the fighting. He could bring it all to a close, here and now. He could-

"One other thing," Cecile said. "It appears as though the enemy commander stole that Knight's Sutherland and is using it to intercept communication. Clovis wants you to focus on taking them down first."

_Lelouch_

Suzaku gripped the controls a little bit tighter than he'd intended. That woman's Sutherland? But how was that possible? Surely she had secured the system, locking it down so that nobody else could activate it!

_"__Why not carry her in the Sutherland ? It would be safer and faster."_

That's right, of course! Would he have even drawn his attention towards using the Sutherland if he had intended to steal it himself? No. Lelouch wouldn't do something like that. Why would he -

_"__I swear Suzaku. So help me -"_

No. He wouldn't do that. Lelouch wasn't that kind of person. He was involved by accident! He was here by simple dumb luck, for no other reason! Unless he had lied about that. Unless he had deceived Suzaku to try and get his trust long enough that he could get away…

"Lancelot, launch!"

Within the first second of launch it felt like his hand sliding into a glove. In the very next it ceased being a machine, and in the third it became an extension of his indomitable will. The Lancelot didn't run across the ground so much as glide. It didn't seem to be in a hurry, yet moved at a breakneck pace. Inside, its pilot struggled with denial but it did not show in his motions. He hurried to battle, to stop the fighting, to end the torment, to prove to himself that the one causing it all was not, absolutely not his childhood friend!

But if it was, what then? Turn him in? Kill him? Let him go free? All options were equally repugnant, vile and cowardly in his eyes. So what else could he do but fight on in the name of justice?

And god help anyone that got in his way.

* * *

_"__My pawn advances," Clovis said, moving the piece to the end of the board. "It becomes a knight. Check."_

_Ah yes. The Knight. Many favour the Queen, but for Clovis the Knight held a special place in his heart. It danced around the board in a set pattern that, if you knew how to go about it, could be used to make it touch every square on the board exactly once. A fascinating piece that moved in a manner utterly unlike the others. A work of art in its own right. Powerful, yet restrained. Versatile, yet vulnerable._

_Lelouch frowned, and then made his next move with his typical dramatic flare…_

* * *

The first indication that things were going straight to hell was a communication from unit P2, which went to the effect of "Reinforcements! Oh god no!"

After which the radio chatter devolved into chaos, with Lelouch barking out orders that turned out to be futile. Each ambush failed. Each trap proved useless, from the chatter Lelouch was able to determine three facts: A single enemy unit had appeared, it was more advanced than a Sutherland and it looked exactly like the unit heading directly towards him at an insanely high speed: Gleaming white while carrying the aura of death in its wake.

With an amazing mental acuity, Lelouch was able to easily calculate the path it was taking towards him and the arc his bullets would take versus wind drag - Which easily enabled him to take aim and fire upon the approaching spectre of death in machine form, aiming directly for the joints of its legs in an attempt to immobilise it.

The bullets bounced off the air two feet in front of it. Suddenly he didn't particularly blame his allies for falling against this monster: They couldn't even hope to hurt it to begin with!

There was no other choice available to him. Retreat. Immediate retreat. He had to duck into a shadow and vanish long enough to flee, but bearing the invisibility of an entire Sutherland had proved rather difficult to maintain for any appreciable length of time. Which meant he had to adopt another approach, and quickly!

* * *

There he was, the enemy commander. No question of it. That was the signature on file for Villetta Nu's Sutherland, tearing things up for no reason at all! Provoking Britannia when they knew the likely response! Killing innocents, perpetuating a cycle of death and misery! He had to be stopped!

The Lancelot shoulder tackled the Sutherland into a nearby building that had been evacuated for hours. For a moment Suzaku stopped to wonder why he had taken that course of action, knocking the enemy a short distance away from himself when he could have easily taken them in and -

_Because you wanted to see if he'd vanish in the shadows like Lelouch can._

The Sutherland stood up and got its leg kicked away for good measure. No. No fleeing. No escape. This ended here, right now. With the capture of their leader they would give up. With the way things were now there was no possible escape. Except becoming invisible. Which, of course, they couldn't do because they were not Lelouch. Not Lelouch. Never Lelouch!

The enemy Sutherland grabbed his automatic weapon once again in a useless gesture, firing once again at the Lancelot. Perhaps hoping that point blank range would surpass the field. To no avail. The bullets bounced off the field as Suzaku knew they would. It was the perfect protection from projectile weaponry.

But not, it seemed, from the forces of gravity.

The bullets struck the ceiling and it caved in on him like a toppled house of cards. Dust and debris clouded his vision, but not for long. He waved it clear and easily found the enemy - except the frame was clearly empty. The pilot had escaped in the confusion, and could easily disguise himself as a random civilian trying desperately to escape the struggle.

"Everything alright over there?" Cecile asked. "Things seemed to get a little intense for a moment. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Suzaku said. "I found the enemy commander. He has abandoned the Sutherland."

"Well, never mind," Lloyd said. "Return to base. You've given us some very valuable data, which we'll be sure to make good use of."

Valuable data. Yes. But no proof of his friend's innocence. That would have to come later…

* * *

_Victory seemed assured now. Lelouch had spent five out of the last ten turns escaping check, and was quite obviously embarking upon an act of desperation. Random moves which made no sense, moving his King into increasingly vulnerable situations, not seeming surprised or to care whenever Clovis called for check. Soon the game would come to an end. Soon the young boy would realise he could not prevail, and then he would surrender…_

_But Lelouch smiled, and picked up his King. With a slightly maniacal chuckle he waved his free hand over the board like a magician performing an elaborate illusion._

_"__This game is over," Lelouch said, placing his King back on the board a scant two spaces away from Clovis' own. ""With this, I call checkmate. Better luck next time."_

_Checkmate? But that did not make sense. His King was not under threat, so why- And then he saw it. He had moved his King out of the path of his Rook, creating a clear line towards Clovis' own. What was worse, Clovis could not move his own King out of the way without moving his own King into striking distance of Lelouch's. An illegal move. While it would be trivial to use the next turn to put Lelouch in check once again, it was beyond his ability. No legal moves were available to him. He had well and truly lost…_

He heard the voice in the shadows before seeing the gun hovering next to his head. Clovis turned towards it and saw words appear to manifest among the gun's barrel. After a moment he realised what he was truly seeing: The words were formed by gaps manifesting in the gun.

Those words read "Order them away."

Bartley was still barking orders, mopping up was still underway… None of them could see the gun. Clovis understood that immediately.

"Enough!" Clovis yelled. "I want you all to assist in the search for the missing items! Leave me be. At once!"

"But sir, why would -"

"I said at once, General!" Clovis yelled. "I am… Perfectly safe here. Close the door behind you, if you would not mind."

They left in file one by one, leaving him alone with the man that had taken him hostage right under their very noses. None of them had even seen the intruder enter the room. A communicator was thrust into his face, and Clovis had a fair idea of what was expected of him.

"Attention all forces. Cease fire at once! I Clovis, third prince of Britannia and royal viceroy of Area Eleven, hereby command you, all forces are ordered to cease fire at once. You shall also cease destruction of any buildings or property. All casualties, whether Britannian or Eleven, shall be treated equally and without prejudice. In the name of Clovis la Britannia, you are hereby ordered, cease fire at once. I shall allow no further fighting."

"Thank you," the invisible man said, lurking in the shadows. "That was a little more than I expected, and a little easier as well."

"There is no further point in continuing the destruction of Shinjuku," Clovis said. "After all. You have the arrow, am I correct? The Stand granting arrow!"

"Stand granting?" the voice said, not even knowing that much. The fool. "Yes. I suppose I do. Is that what this power is called? Stand?"

"Yes, that's quite correct," Clovis replied. The brick floor began to shift. "It means 'one who stands by me'. Yours seems to be stealth based, if I'm not mistaken. How appropriate. Most people can't see most Stands.

"Would you like to see mine?"

With a terrible grinding sound the entire floor seemed to explode upwards, each brick levitating through the air under its own power. Clovis felt tremendous satisfaction in hearing the man behind him gasp in shock, but the show wasn't even remotely started yet. The bricks flew together, piece by piece forming into a shape. A large hulking humanoid mass composed entirely of brick standing in the centre of the room.

The door swung shut and locked itself on the press of a button. If only he could see the man's face! If only he could experience the delight in the sheer terror he must be feeling even now!

"Allow me the great pleasure to introduce you," Clovis said, raising his hand above his head in much the same way his dear departed brother used to lift a piece as he made a move. "To The Wall!"

With this, he called checkmate.

**[To Be Continued |\|]**

* * *

**Stand Stats**

**The Wall**

**User: Clovis**

**Stats**

Destructive Power B

Speed C

Range C

Durability A

Precision C

Developmental Potential D

**Abilities**

Reform: The Wall is made of bricks which can be reshaped into any form Clovis desires.


	3. Brothers

Disclaimer: Code Geass belongs to Sunrise. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure is property of Hirohiko Araki.

**Chapter 3: Brothers**

Adversity is inevitable and it strikes us at all sizes; Be they great or be they small. It is a simple unavoidable fact of life. We must all contend with adversity in our everyday lives, and the manner in which we elect to do so can very easily inform the world about what manner of person we are. Do we remain calm, rationally consider possible avenues of solution? Do we panic, attempt anything at all to ensure success? Do we hesitate? Do we get angry? Afraid? Do we enjoy adversity? Do we bury our true feelings underneath a mountain of denial, ignore the problem and pray that it disappears?

"Fold here, like this, and… Voila! A paper bird."

"Oh, wow! That's incredible!"

Or do we put on a smile to keep everyone around us happy, only caring about our own needs to keep others from worrying instead? Most would never think of such a thing, most would be too caught up in their own problems to worry that others may have it worse. Not so much Nunnally vi - Ah, rather Nunnally Lamperouge. When she was very young Nunnally had the misfortune to witness her mother's death, her cooling corpse landing on top of her tiny body in an effort to keep her safe. To certain respects it was successful: Nunnally survived the attack.

Even so, this is a rather traumatic experience for one so young to suffer through. The scars would linger in her mind forevermore. And yet! And yet she had to endure further torment as each day, each passing moment bore the reminder of the incident like a freshly picked scab.

Because you see, Nunnally survived. The tendons in her legs did not. Bullets tore her young legs to shreds, but by the time she was even psychologically capable of recognising the physical agony she was in all physical capacity to feel it had long since vanished. She was wheelchair bound, but that was not all.

No physical damage had been done to her eyes, so far as any doctor could tell. The damage went deeper, too deep for physical medicine to resolve. Trauma is a terrible thing. In this instance it ensured that the last thing Nunnally had ever seen was blood trickling down her mother's cheek. This sight proved too much for her to handle, and so her brain reacted by refusing to allow her eyes open ever again.

A single event with consequences further reaching than she could comprehend. But, if someone had the heart black enough to ask her what she thought of it now she would simply reply that it was a terrible thing, but at least she got to meet so many nice people. From all things a silver lining.

She could not see the paper crane in her hands, but years of practise allowed her to visualise it in her mind. Her attention focused into her fingertips as she delicately ran her fingers along the edges. It allowed her an understanding - no, a perspective - that Sayoko lacked. It was a small thing, nothing particularly impressive in the grand scheme of the world but it let Nunnally understand the paper crane as a work of art. A work of skill. A work of friendship.

The clock on the wall chimed. Nunnally frowned.

"Strange," she said. "I wonder where my brother is. If he was running late, he'd usually call home."

"I wouldn't worry about Master Lelouch," Sayoko said. "I'm sure he's found himself a nice girlfriend and lost track of the time."

"I'm sure that's not it," Nunnally replied. "Big brother is not the kind of person to go out with just any girl…"

She might not have been able to see Sayoko's knowing smile, but she certainly felt it. Still, it did leave her wondering where her brother had gotten to. Had he gone on one of those chess game gambles he thought she didn't know about? If that was the case it wasn't too hard to imagine him getting into some sort of trouble against a noble that didn't want to pay…

Well. She could sit there and hypothesise all day if she liked, but if her brother was in trouble it was up to her to find out about it. And, if it was at all possible, she would have to find a way to help him out of it. Because he would do the same for her in a heartbeat.

It's just what big brothers did.

* * *

Stand. That was the name of this ability. Had the arrow granted this power to Clovis? Why was it different to Lelouch's? Could this thing interact with objects in a way beyond making them invisible? Questions. Too many questions. He had entered this room with questions, and now had to worry about all new ones.

For example: The confident expression sitting upon Clovis' face. It had no right to be there. Why the confidence? Even a simple tactical analysis should reveal the truth to anyone! He was facing an invisible enemy with a gun. How could he hope to defend himself in this situation? The attack could come from anywhere at any time, and he would have no recourse. Why seal the room when he could have easily escaped?

It smelled of a trap. Reeked of it from top to bottom. This alone kept him from firing. Clovis was not the type to go for a bluff when he had nothing to keep himself safe. If he was confident, it was for a reason. If he thought for a second that it was possible for a bullet to strike him, he would be much more panicked. Fearful. Terrified. Unable to act at all. What was more if he could see Lelouch at all, then he would at least be looking directly at him instead of slightly off to the side.

So. It left them at an impasse.

Whatever Clovis was so confident about quite obviously depended upon a single factor. Lelouch firing his gun. As soon as that happened it would all become clear. He was making no obvious moves to attack or defend himself, and likely would not do so until he was under direct assault. And so, Lelouch took the only rational course available to him.

To begin with he lay on the ground, holding the gun at arm's length away from his body. After which, he twisted his grip into a form that should have left it impossible to aim, yet held the gun steady. Away from his body. Pointed towards Clovis.

And then Painted Black spread across the ground, lining itself up with the gun's sight. Enabling Lelouch to turn his grip even in this position, to keep his aim as precise as ever. And then! A gunshot rang out through the room. The tiny explosion propelling the bullet through the air towards its intended target - Clovis' leg - with a devastating precision. Surely Clovis would expect a shot to the head or torso, an intended lethal shot to end this supposed battle immediately. Surely that would bring an end to it all!

Except it did not. The Wall shifted and performed two actions at once. The first intercepted the bullet, the next sent a kick through the air that left a considerable dent in the wall approximately where Lelouch would have been standing had he fired the gun from that angle in a normal manner. Like a cobra strike. The Wall kicked back towards Clovis and was by him again like it had never even left.

For a few second Lelouch didn't move at all. His ears were still ringing. The Wall's strike had been louder than the gunshot by a considerable margin. If that had hit him, his bones would have been reduced to powder. He would have been little more than a bloody smear that Clovis could leave there for future gatherings, where he could say "Oh that? An uppity would be assassin that I killed with my bare hands."

Lelouch checked his chambre. Five bullets left, and he hadn't brought replacements.

"It seems as though I missed you," Clovis said with a small shrug. The Wall drifted around his body, hovering in the air like a bad odor. Playing at being bodyguard with its giant brick body. "It has been difficult keeping myself from talking about Stand, so please indulge me just a trifle and I shall give you two simple facts."

That's right, Clovis. Keep on talking. While you do so, your dear little brother was going to sneak around in the shadows in the room and then he was going to take a pot shot at you from right over here using the very same trick. Except this time, aiming for an arm.

"The first is that any damage inflicted on a Stand is reflected onto its user."

Another gunshot, and once again The Wall blocked the bullet. This time it sent out a punch like a wrecking ball, and the fact that the building was still standing after it struck spoke wonders about the architecture. Truly, this was a building intended to survive attempts at all manner of aerial strikes. Lelouch was not even a hundredth as sturdy.

But wait! That bullet had surely struck The Wall in the hand. If it truly were made of brick, then surely it would have inflicted damage upon Clovis? Bricks were certainly not impervious to gunfire, so why didn't he show any sign of - Unless…

"The second thing that I should tell you," Clovis said. "Is that the only way to hurt a Stand is with another Stand."

Silence filled the room. Suddenly, it made sense why Clovis would reveal that particular pair of facts. It was confirmation of something obvious. Lelouch stared at Painted Black. The shadow Stand shrugged, as if to say "Don't ask me". As it was, there was nothing he could do but confirm what Clovis had already figured out: His Stand couldn't attack. Then again…

That first kick had struck the area where Painted Black had been, and Lelouch hadn't felt anything at all. Could it be… His Stand could only interact with items by making them invisible… Which meant that even other Stands couldn't hurt it! But by that same token, it couldn't be used to hurt other Stands. The only weapon he had to attack was his gun. A gun with only four bullets left.

"Do you see how hopeless your situation is yet?" Clovis said, apparently addressing his comment to the ceiling. "The only way to open that door is with the remote around my neck, and it's quite obvious to us both that you can't hurt me. How long can you maintain your invisibility? Certainly not indefinitely. Come now. Be a good sport, you've been very brave today. Surrender now, and I shan't rescind my kind order. Which I assure you, I will if I am forced to wait and kill you."

A lie. A blatant lie, at that. Quite insulting to his intelligence, really. As if anyone would believe a bald face lie like that? Well. At the very least the last part was true, but he'd certainly rescind the order if he survived no matter what.

Until that point Lelouch had been fighting for his own survival, but now his mind was cast back towards what he saw within the ghetto. Families butchered having committed no wrong. Children lined up and shot without mercy. Without hesitation. Viewed as animals for the slaughter and nothing more.

And with those enemies came a renewed purpose: No longer would he battle Clovis for himself! Not for his own survival! Not for his own answers! He would fight in memory of those that died! He would fight for the sake of those who still had a future to live! He would fight! He would win! For their sake! He would draw upon those horrors to ignite the passion of his soul, but above all else!

He! Would! Win!

Lelouch took aim once again, but this time not at Clovis. This time, he aimed higher. Towards the ceiling. Towards the inactive lights, and then he let the bullet fly. This time, The Wall did not launch a counterattack. How could it? It was too busy shielding Clovis from the shards of falling glass, while attempting to keep certain that Lelouch could not strike with another shot from his gun.

"I see," Clovis said. "It breaks my heart to see my kindness refused with murderous intent! So be it!"

The Wall shuddered and began to shake. Without any other hint of warning each brick suddenly flew away from the body, drifting and spinning through the air. They flew independently around Clovis, spinning in place as they spun around him.

"Behold!" Clovis yelled. "The instrument of your death!

**"Orbital Death Storm!"**

He wanted to laugh. Really. He did. It was too funny for words. Orbital Death Storm, indeed. The intention behind the attack was clear as day. The bricks were spinning at an increasingly rapid rate, meaning that all Clovis had to do was take a walk around the room. Eventually his bricks would strike their target, and if Lelouch tried to take a shot then the whirling form of the bricks would surely prevent any incoming attack in a moment.

Except! That the attack depended on a single variable that Clovis would not , could not have possibly been be aware of. He was not confronting just anyone. His invisible assassin was a marksman, with the ability to see the attacks coming from each and every angle of the room. All he had to do was will Painted Black to take a location, and he did so immediately. In the process telling Lelouch precisely what was happening where and when, a perfect opportunity to tell him certain essential facts.

From these two observation points it was a trivial thing for Lelouch to perform the arithmetic in his own head. The rotation of each brick around its own centre of mass, and the other rotation around Clovis. All he had to do was watch and calculate, then wait for the perfect time to strike!

It would be impossible for Clovis to react in time, of course. In its previous humanoid form The Wall had used the sheer density of its mass to form as protection, alongside an estimation of the firing direction based on the sound. Yes. Based on its movement, that was how it had been able to block his shots. But now? The mass was no longer concentrated. It was spread out, all around Clovis leaving easily exploitable gaps.

It was a shame that he'd have to end this fight without an opportunity to question Clovis but alas. A headshot would have to be the manner in which it ended. Lelouch extended the gun and readied the shot, seeing his opportunity about to open up before him. Time to end this. Time to avenge the dead. Time to-

Feel something gently nudge his foot. A lone brick with a much further orbit than the others, skirting the sides of the room inches away from the floor. It wasn't much. It was enough to make the shot go wide.

Clovis turned towards him and let loose a disturbing laugh. "Found you!" he cried, as the bricks behind him flew past his body directly towards Lelouch. Propelled on by instinct alone, he relied upon his physically unfit body to bring him out of this situation as a hail storm fell upon him. He ducked to the ground, rolling forward and missing the majority of the incoming strikes. Even so. One struck him in the shoulder, sending him spinning out in the air screaming in pain as another clattered across his jaw. He fell to the ground uncertain whether to be grateful he was conscious or not.

"Behold, the true fury of my Orbital Death Storm!" Clovis laughed. Lelouch replayed it in his mind while bricks swarmed all around him, eager to figure out what had happened! Yes, of course! Four bricks kept low to the ground, perpendicular to one another. Yes. That made sense. Distract the enemy with a showy attack while the real one sneaks under their radar. As soon as they saw the closer bricks, anyone would step back to keep their distance. Which is where the outer four patrolled. Yes. Patrolled was the word for it. As soon as they felt the enemy Clovis would know where he was, and unleash hell upon them.

The swarm got a little too close for his liking, hovering overhead like swarming locusts. If Lelouch raised his arm any further than this they'd feel him and crush him. Which meant he had no choice but to aim for the one part of the body he could reliably hit, and hope it gave him the time to recover.

But it meant he would have one bullet left. Just one. Which meant he had to make it count because all he had on him was this gun and -

No, that wasn't quite true. He had something else. Something a clock on the wall told him could either kill him or save him… He placed that item on the ground knowing that a certain person would do a certain thing, unknowingly saving his life in the process. But before then, he had to escape this situation.

Hoping on a miracle, Lelouch pulled the trigger.

* * *

"You… Shot me…" Clovis said, barely believing the words out of his mouth. The pain had been unbearable. Worse than he imagined. Seeing his own blood staining his gleaming white clothes… He could hardly believe it. The Prince dropped to the ground, gingerly holding the wound just above his ankle in an attempt to curtail the bleeding just a little.

His time advantage was gone, now. He had to end this, and end it now. A wound like this could not risk going untreated! Bloodloss, disease, infection! Too great a risk for someone as important as him to take.

He had hit the enemy. Which meant that their Stand didn't give them any sort of intangibility or anything like that, which of course it didn't. If it had they would have attacked like that already instead of using bullets.

So! He had to end this fight and end it soon instead of simply waiting for the invisible assassin to make his presence known. The only question he had was how to do it. Surely he could come up with something -

He looked around and smiled. Of course. Before, when he was standing The Wall didn't have enough bricks to protect him from every angle at once. But now that he was crouching… The bricks formed a cylindrical well around him. Impervious to damage.

"You - You've done quite well," Clovis said, gritting through the pain. "I suppose - I suppose you intend to kill me, Eleven? Like you killed my brother and my sister! Lelouch… Nunnally… They never hurt you! They were children, and you tore into them for no good reason! Do you understand that, Eleven? Those gentle spirits, taken from this world by your barbaric backwards nature? That was the moment I knew what you were! Animals! I have offered salvation to the few among you that earned it, but to the rest I offer only the same suffering you caused them!"

And then, like a miracle he heard it. An innocuous sound. A familiar sound that heralded victory. A ringtone. The assassin had left his phone on. Truly, such a simple mind.

This time he would risk no escape. This time, he walled off that section of the room. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. He drew to his full height, shaking from the pain and allowed himself a smile of victory moments before he was shot in the back.

It was worse than the leg, and he knew immediately because he let out a gasp of pain. It felt like his chest had caught fire. All he could do was crumple to the ground while the outlined figure of his killer strode past and picked up the still ringing phone. It left a stinging clarity in Clovis' mind: He had deliberately left it there as a trap, but how could he have known it was going to ring? If he used the phone in the room, it would have easily led to his arrest later on. So how -

"Hello," the voice said. "Ah! Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. Yes. I should have called earlier, unfortunately I got rather wrapped up in something else. Don't worry about it, I'll be home in a few hours. No, no. Everything is fine, really! See you then, little sister."

Little sister. Of course. The bond between siblings led him to know that she would surely call at this time. Because of course a little sister would be worried about their big brother if they stayed out late, with no idea where they were.

Clovis knew he was dying. He was already as good as dead now. But contrary to expectations, instead of his whole life flashing before his eyes only one part appeared.

_He was at the Aries Villa once again, this time sitting with his canvas, easel and paint. A perfect landscape on a perfect day. No cloud in the sky, not a hint of rain. The only disturbance he had to contend with was a tiny adorable presence tugging gently on his sleeve._

_"Clovis, let's play!" Nunnally said, giving him the big puppy dog eyes. Really now, that wasn't fair at all. How could he possibly say no to that?_

_"... Why don't you play with Lelouch?" he replied, feeling rather small himself for ignoring the adorableness._

_"He's busy with his mentor,"_

_Clovis allowed himself a moment of laughter. "That old man?" he said. "The same one that taught Schneizel? Oh, he must be impressing someone to draw his attention!"_

_"I don't like him very much," Nunnally said, fidgeting slightly as though she'd just admitted to something naughty. "He's scary."_

_"Hm? How strange," Clovis said. "Most people think he's quite charming. I wonder if you're seeing something the rest of us aren't? Ah, never mind. Tell you what my dear, why don't you watch me paint?"_

_"Why are you painting?" Nunnally said, her previous concerns about her brother's new teacher completely discarded. Oh dear. That stage where children are compelled to question literally everything. At the very least Clovis could answer that question, to his own satisfaction if not hers._

_"Because I enjoy doing it," he said. "But more than that. Other people enjoy my work as well. That is the legacy I intend to leave this world. If my work can leave a single person happy and satisfied, I know that I have lived -"_

"A worthwhile life," he finished in the present, with a tear strolling down both sides of his face. "When did I become so cruel?" Except… He knew the answer to that question as well. _He was in his studio at the time the news arrived. He had the news on in the background, not particularly paying it any attention. Background noise. Nothing more. At least, until the moment he heard a certain something._

_"... The invasion is progressing as expected. However, our reports indicate that a tragic loss has taken the Imperial Family today. Lelouch vi Britannia and his sister Nunnally vi Britannia are believed to be dead at the hands of the Japanese government."The paintbrush clattered to the ground, leaving a red stain upon the wooden floor that would remain until the day he moved out._

_"Sir, are you -"_

_"Leave," he replied, voice devoid of emotion. The manservant didn't move initially, so he repeated the command, this time more forcefully. When he was alone and only then did he stand and walk among his paintings. He stared at the landscape of the Aries Villa, and then - And then he stabbed it with a knife. He didn't even remember retrieving it. He continued down the line, seeing a portrait he'd made of his father._

_"Your fault," he whispered. "You sent them there and then you invaded! You knew they would die! You sacrificed them! Damn you! You're as bad as them!"_

_But he stopped the blade inches from the canvas. No. He couldn't act against his father. Not in public, at least. But if he went elsewhere. Went away to another place, he could plan. And scheme. And exact his revenge…_

_Which is why a short month into the rechristening of Japan into Area Eleven, he formally requested the opportunity to prove himself as Viceroy. Vengeance would come. One day, it would come. It would strike upon two fronts and when it did, it would be so very bitterly -_

"Cold," Clovis shivered. "I'm so… Cold."

A figure appeared above him, and he looked into his killer's eyes. His temperature dropped just from staring into them.

"You hate us don't you," he said. It wasn't a question but a statement of fact. "Then… Listen carefully to my final words. I was eaten by the beast of hatred and revenge. It blinded me to the harmful effects of my actions. I did it all in their name. Everything was for Lelouch and Nunnally, but is this what they would have wanted? Would they have wanted me to take revenge in their name? Would they want me to seperate brothers and sisters as I have done? All I've managed is to perpetuate the same pain that hurt me."

With the last ounce of strength in his fading body, Clovis seized his killer's arm and looked him in the eye. By this time, the tears were streaming from his eyes, not of pain, not even of sadness. Simply tears of endless regret.

"My brothers and sisters will come for you," he said. "But please… Don't let yourself… Don't let [i]them[/i] be eaten by the same beast that took me. Don't let it devour the world."

His arm slumped to the ground and his body became still. His killer snatched the door remote from his neck, rose to his feet and clicked open the door, careful to ensure his own invisibility as he approached the door frame.

"Sorry brother," Lelouch said. "Long before that beast ever got a taste of you -

"It had already consumed me whole."

**[To Be Continued |\|]**

* * *

Clovis, The Wall: Deceased


	4. Aftermath

Disclaimer: Code Geass belongs to Sunrise. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure is property of Hirohiko Araki.

**Chapter Four: Aftermath**

The entirety of Shinjuku let out a heavy breath of relief when the announcement came through. Nobody could believe it. To the Japanese, it was a miracle. To the soldiers, it was a confusing irritating order that they had to obey or suffer the consequences.

"Yeah, you hear that? You gotta treat us all like equals!" Tamaki yelled. A picture of subtlety as ever. "To begin with, I think I'd like an apolo- _Oof_!"

The only reason Kallen hadn't elbowed the idiot in the ribs is because Ohgi beat her to it. Even under those kinds of orders, the smart thing to do was to keep a low profile. Stay under the radar. Today, the fighting was over. Damn close thing, too.

"I don't understand," Ohgi whispered. "Why would Clovis reverse orders like that? It doesn't add up."

"Tsk, what does it matter?" Tamaki snorted. "All I know is, that stupid ass mystery voice nearly led us to our graves!"

"I don't know about that," Kallen said, deep in thought. "He was winning until that new Knightmare showed up." Which was true enough. He had stolen up to date equipment, then led them to near victory against forces with superior numbers. A veritable tactical genius, who had only lost because of a single factor nobody could have foreseen.

"Well, he certainly abandoned us when things went south. Fancy him disappearing like that, in the middle of a battle!"

"Maybe not," Ohgi said, suddenly appearing a great deal more thoughtful. "If I was reading the situation correctly, Clovis sent his own guard after us, and we took them down as well."

Kallen stopped cold and stared at him. "You're not suggesting -"

"Maybe. It would explain why Clovis made that announcement out of the blue. He had no other reason to. Then again, I could be wrong. It's just pointless speculation without any way to check the results."

That was Ohgi's biggest problem really. Lack of confidence. Kallen shrugged it off and retrieved her phone. In a mission like this it was inevitable that members of the group would be split up, but still need contact. But at the same time it was possible one of them could be captured. The answer? Prepaid phones, completely untraceable.

And paled a fraction at the sound she heard.

"Something wrong?" Ohgi asked.

"The line is dead," Kallen replied, wincing a little at the word choice.

"So what?" Tamaki replied. "Doesn't mean nothing. Maybe he switched his phone off or something."

"No," Kallen replied. "We all made sure our batteries were charged, and switched the ring to silent. There's no reason he would switch it off unless-"

"Unless it was destroyed," Ohgi finished, looking positively dejected. "He was a good man."

"A lot of good people died today," Kallen said, feeling her bile rising towards Britannia once again. "Nagata… Damn it!"

The three stayed silent for a moment, in memory of yet another lost ally. There had been too many of them. Too many reasons to fight. Too many reasons to hate. Growing on what felt like a daily basis.

"I think we need to keep our heads down until the heat is off," Ohgi said out of the blue. "The way things are now, after an event like this… Things are bound to be pretty tense."

"Good!" Tamaki said, a little too loudly. "Let's keep 'em tense! Let's keep the momentum going! I'd rather give 'em another bloody nose than hide under some rock!"

"If we run at them without thinking, we'll just wind up dead as well!" Ohgi said, staring at the ground. "We can only win this fight if we think clearly, and… Kallen. I think it's time you went back under cover."

Under cover wasn't quite the right word for it. The phrase implied she was spying on their enemy, when the truth was more "live among them for a while." Pretend to be a sickly, weak young girl and spend her time talking to arrogant, vapid rich girls for whom the worst problem might just involve showing up to a party with the same dress. The kind of person that never imagined what it might be like to miss a meal, never had to worry about being randomly beat up or shot. Never even realised these kinds of things happened anywhere in the world near them. The kind of person that was born into paradise, the kind that believed they deserved to be there and that anyone on the outside simply isn't trying hard enough. Or was too weak, too stupid to crawl their way through the system.

Little did they realise that the cogs of the system, more often than not, chewed up those that tried to pass through it and spit them back out. A mangled heap of flesh that once resembled a human being. Even if they did make it through intact what came out of the other end was human in a purely physical respect and nothing more than that.

"Not a chance," Kallen said. "We should be trying to track down that mystery voice! Not sitting on our hands!"

"Alright," Ohgi said. "So what do you think we should do? How do we even start tracking down this voice? We don't know anything about him. Can't track down a voice."

"There has to be something we can -"

"Hey everyone! Come on, don't be such a downer!" all three of them froze, realizing they'd been so caught up in their discussion they hadn't even noticed someone else approaching. It was a Japanese woman, thankfully, though she was rather manic in appearance. There was a peculiar gleam in her eyes, the slightest tint of madness in her expression. ""The one! The only! The Great Takako Matsuzawa is here to entertain you! Available for children's birthdays, weddings and the aftermath of slaughters!" She was shuffling a deck of cards like it was second nature. Takako let out a slightly insane giggle and suddenly fanned out the entire deck, presenting it to them with a slight bow.

"Please, do me the honour of picking a card. Any card that you like!"

"Ah, we don't have time for this," Tamaki said, turning around to walk away. "Come on, let's find someplace else to talk. More privacy, less crazy."

"No no no!" Takako said, skipping just ahead of him with the deck thrust out. "It won't take but a moment! I think you'll really be blown away by this trick!"

"Tsch, fine! Whatever!" Tamaki said, reaching out for the deck. "If it'll get you outta our way, I'll draw a stupid card!" He took one from the deck and Kallen rolled her eyes. She'd seen that. The deck had been moved under Tamaki's fingers, probably the most ancient method of forcing a card. "Let me guess, now you tell me what card I drew or something stupid like that?"

Takako took a step back, and the grin on her face grew more malevolent from moment to moment. "Well, if you insist," she said with a low laugh from deep, deep within the territory of madness. "The Ace of Spades! And I could tell even if I hadn't forced the card. Do you want to know how?"

"Huh? No, not really."

"I'll tell you anyway!" Takako roared in laughter, and drew a gun out from under her baggy clothes. "It's because the spirit of the card is about to attack, and only I can see it!"

"Spirit of the card?" Ohgi whispered. Kallen was wondering much the same thing. What did she mean by -

The card within Tamaki's hand vanished. Moments later, the ground beneath his feet followed suit. Before Kallen or Ohgi could even blink their friend was buried up to his neck with an expression mixed of shock, fear and rage.

"Tamaki!" Ohgi yelled, quickly kneeling next to his friend. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes. I'm just super." Tamaki replied. "I make it a personal point to bury myself to my neck in concrete on my days off, bit of a hobby of mine that I started - No I'm not okay you idiot! Get me out of here!"

"We'd need power tools to dig you out," Kallen said, running her fingers along the ground next to him without taking her eyes away from Takako and her gun. Not for a second. Seamless. The only hole in the concrete was around Tamaki's neck. No cracks or anything that would indicate it had been disturbed. How was that even possible? She rose to her feet, and lifted her hands. Takako was too far away to take the risk of disarming the woman. The best thing to do was wait for an opening, or make one appear.

"Why?" Ohgi asked.

"Ah, the simplest of questions with the most difficult of answers," Takako said, performing a single handed shuffle of her deck with one hand while holding the gun steady at them with the other. "Once upon a time, there was a family of entertainers. The father was a musical prodigy, capable of playing any instrument put into his hands. The children were artists that drew caricatures or actual portraits while you waited! And of course, the mother was a gifted magician. They were a poor family, dependant upon the kindness and charity of the Gods when far too often there was nothing but disdain and coldness in their souls. Even so! That family was happy. So long as they had each other.

"But then, one day a band of fools sought to steal fire from the Gods. They were seen, and pursued into the very home of the family and their friends. So desperate to retain the secret of fire were the Gods that they sent lightning from the sky to torch the ground and swarms of locusts to devour any that survived. The mother had to witness her family consumed whole before her very eyes, even though they had done nothing to the world! Nothing to the Gods! Only entertained them! Only ever wanted to entertain!"

By now, twin rivers of tears were streaming down the sides of Takako's face. A lesser person might have trembled in sadness of grief. A lesser person might have pulled the trigger out of vengeful anger. But she stayed still. She stayed under control, and she continued to speak with only the slightest trace of a timbre to her voice.

"Why did you bring down their judgement on us?" Takako demanded. "My boys… They never would have hurt a soul. Some day they might have escaped this place thanks to their talent. Some day…"

"I'm sorry," Ohgi said. "But you shouldn't blame us. You should be blaming Britannia."

"Do you blame the sun for shining or the gravity for keeping you to the ground?" Takako sneered, stepping to the side, towards a table. At first Kallen thought it was strange it had remained upright amidst this chaos, until she realised Takako had probably set it upright herself. "I heard you talking amongst yourselves! You gambled with the lives of innocence, and only the innocent lost. It's only right you gamble for your own lives!"

She slapped her well shuffled deck onto the table, and with a single gesture created a perfect fan across the surface. The mad magician stepped away from the table and beckoned for Ohgi and Kallen to approach.

"You want to save your friend?" Takako said. "I'm the only one that knows how to get him out, and I'll only tell whichever one of you survives this little game! Because, you see! That mother of that family. One day she found a magic deck of cards, made of real magic! Wherever she went they would follow her around as if to stand by her. She realised that each card in the deck had its own unique ability that would activate whenever one was drawn! That deck of cards lies before you now!

"I want you to take turns drawing cards until either all cards are drawn or one of you dies! Then I let him go free! What will it be?"

"Hey, you two! Just ignore her! Get the hell outta here, before you get caught up in your neck too!" Tamaki yelled.

"In which case I could just shoot them," Takako said. "But that's no fun. I want to see you squirm and suffer a little bit. I want to give you the chance my family never got, because after all: Fair is fair."

"I don't think we have a choice," Ohgi said. "We'll play your game."

Kallen stared hard at the deck. Real magic? It seemed impossible, but then again… Even before Tamaki was buried neck deep in concrete against his will, she had already seen a kind of magic today. A Sutherland. Appearing out of the shadows as though it was made of the stuff. She'd neglected to mention it to her friends because - who the hell would believe that? Maybe it was an optical illusion or something, but now she wasn't quite so sure.

No. That didn't matter right now. What mattered most was surviving this game. What mattered most was getting Tamaki out of the concrete, and trying to give this poor woman some much needed peace of mind. She could hope these two elements weren't mutually exclusive, but if she didn't fight on she'd never find out.

* * *

It didn't really hit him until he was lying there under the medical equipment was over him, taking measurements of his heart rate, blood pressure, brain waves and probably a dozen other things he wouldn't think to check. It reminded him of the old saying that the journey of a thousand miles must begin with the single step.

Nobody ever said that first step would cover so much distance so quickly. Imagine. Just this morning, he was merely a private. An Honorary Britannian. A position treated with no respect by your typical Japanese or natural born Britannian. A citizen of the Empire that was not of descent, of first generation only and beyond that being of another country. Another race. Swear loyalty to the Empire, and you were legally almost indistinguishable.

The trouble was that reality and the law do not always agree. Legally, he was a citizen. In the eyes of others he was either a traitor, or a still valid target of discrimination. He had expected it to take years of hard work. Promotion up the ranks, one pip at a time. Crawling up on his hands and knees until - finally - he would be at the top. He would prove to the world that it was possible for a former Number to rise to the top, and once he was there he would use that influence to ensure the system would be kinder, gentler to others forced into it. Suzaku's mission statement: Use kindness to save the world. Because using cruelty and violence to achieve that same end would leave nothing more than a hollow victory.

Given the announcement he'd just made, it seemed as though Clovis agreed. An act of kindness like that would make people less likely to lash out in anger. A validation of his plan, not that any ws needed. It could work. It _must _work. He would _make_ it work. With his blood, with his sweat, with his tears and if necessary then with his life. If and when it came down to it Suzaku Kururugi would push on with every breath in his body until there was nothing more to give. Pressing on without care for his own well being, only that of others, reserving it all for the chance that tomorrow could be reached without a mountain of bodies, without the weight of sin tying them all down! Even if he failed, even if he didn't survive to see it happen all that he needed was to know that he had tried because of the simple truth: It is better to fail than to not try at all!

"It's rather fortuitous, isn't it?" Lloyd said. Lloyd Asplund. A very strange man responsible for putting him where he was here and now."Finding such an effective Devicer in the middle of a crisis like that, at such an opportune moment. We'll have to make sure this rare tool doesn't slip through our fingers, Cecile."

"Tool? What does he mean by -"

"Don't worry about it," Cecile said. "He tends to think of pilots as parts of the machine, that's all."

"Well, aren't we all?" Lloyd said, with what Suzaku had taken to be a slightly manic chuckle but was quick learning was just his normal everyday laugh. "Cogs in the machine, gears in the system - What was that phrase Prince Clovis started using recently?"

"Bricks in the wall," Cecile said. "It is probably a private joke, from the way that he smiles whenever he says it."

"Ours not to question the mindset of Royalty. Some places are too mad for even science to enter unscathed," Lloyd said, a slightly manic twinkle in his eye. "At least, with the current limitations of technology. Who knows what tomorrow may bring?

"The Knight I brought in," Suzaku said. "How is she?"

"You mean Villetta Nu?" Lloyd wasn't even looking at Suzaku anymore. Instead staring very intently at a particular monitor, scanning a sequence of digits with the same rapt fascination one might stare at a classical work of art. He was lost in a different kind of beauty than brush strokes or colour. Mathematics. Pure maths, pure science. Did he even see the numbers, or was he looking at something else entirely? "Cecile, if you wouldn't mind? I rather lost track of her."

"Villetta Nu was released half an hour ago, just after Clovis' announcement" Cecile said. "And I wouldn't expect any thanks. She is a member of the Purebloods. I'm sure you have heard of them."

"It would be difficult to find an Honorary Britannian that hadn't," Suzaku admitted. Which was true enough. The one group anyone was ever the most familiar with was their direct opposite number. Particularly when that number had the deliberate intention of ensuring your own group couldn't exist at all. While Honorary Britannians were certainly legally very similar to regular Britannians, discrimination was still commonplace. The Purists (or the Purebloods) were the worst for it, and why wouldn't they be? They believed that Britannia was a healthy body and that the Honorary system only served to introduce contagions that would only serve to spread sickness.

Except that in Suzaku's eyes it was more close to say it was the other way around. The Purists were sick with the disease of prejudice and power, and for that disease there was only one cure: Kindness.

"It is my understanding that she is engaged in a debriefing with Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald," Cecile said. "He is the leader of the Purebloods."

"Probably attempting to determine what happened to her," Lloyd said. "It's rather odd that she would leave her Frame, don't you think? Stranger still that someone was able to use it against us after you left."

"I'm sure she had her reason,"

"And don't we all," Lloyd said. "Even if others don't necessarily agree with it. We all have our reasons. And our methods. What sort of methods do you favour, Devicer?"

"I… Want to stop the fighting. I don't want anyone to die."

"So you became a soldier? Dear me. Did anyone properly explain the job description?"

Suzaku shrugged. "How better to put myself where the fighting is?"

"You're certainly an odd tool," Lloyd said. "But with the proper maintenance you should yield truly spectacular results. Speaking of! Lie back now. The analysis is almost complete."

Suzaku's mind drifted away from the conversation, and he replied almost entirely on automatic as he considered the situation. How could he tell them that he knew what happened to Villetta, that he saw it happen, that he knew who pulled the trigger? Lelouch. It was such a strange coincidence in a day full of them. The event that had led to him being catapulted into becoming a Knight for an advanced experimental Frame. That power of invisibility… Lelouch was not the kind of person to let an ability like that go to waste. But what would he do with it? What - if anything - had he already done with it? Had he been able to leave the ghetto before the worst of the fighting hit? Had he been caught up in it somehow?

Assuming that he had escaped. Assume that for the time being. He had an arrow in his possession that apparently granted strange abilities to those scratched by it. He was hardly the sort to let that go to waste either… What would Suzaku do if Lelouch decided to use that arrow. Raise an invisible army. Would he incite bloodshed in the name of revenge? If he did, would Suzaku be able to turn him in?

No. Not before he tried to convince him that what he was doing was wrong. Not until he got him to admit that course of action would only bring about more pain, more suffering. That the ends could not ever justify the means. Especially ends so wicked and vile as what he was imagining.

This was only hypothetical, of course. Perhaps Lelouch would do something else with the arrow. Perhaps he really did just intend to keep it out of Britannia's hands.

Then there was the green haired girl to consider. The images that had flashed before his eyes. His father. Standing tall. Defiant. Full of pride and fury. His face replaced with a skull. Blood soaking into Suzaku's hands. A declaration to fight to the last.

_Had that really happened_?

"My goodness, you should try to calm down a little!" Lloyd said, interrupting his thoughts. "It won't do anyone any good if you so easily allow yourself to become so stressed!"

"Were you thinking about something terrible?" Cecile said. "From your expression, it looked like you were waking up from a nightmare."

"No, nothing like that," Suzaku said. " Something happened today that reminded me of my father's death."

That green haired girl. Where was she now? Had she escaped the ghetto? Was that sort of ability why Clovis had her bound up? Had it been a result of that arrow? No. No, somehow that felt like something else entirely. If only he could ask her. If only he could get an answer to any of the numerous questions whirling around in his mind. If only he knew who she was, and where she was going next.

* * *

There is nothing worse than living in a warzone, though living just outside the edge of a warzone had to be a close second. A humble shopkeeper, that's all he was. Didn't want any trouble from anyone. Just wanted left alone by everyone, save those that wanted to make a purchase. His business was literally his business, and everything else was everyone else's business.

Unfortunately he'd had to close up shop today. A terrible shame, but what could he do? In a situation like this he was lucky still being able to walk. He hadn't seen a soul walk by for about an hour. It was best if he just went home for now. At least, that was his plan up until the moment he heard a voice among the wreckage. In spite himself, old curiosity slew another cat and compelled him to investigate.

"-Oh, I'm sure you do find it all very amusing, but it does rather throw a nasty wrench in the works," said a young voice. Female. The shopkeeper quirked an eyebrow. She was sitting staring up at the sky with an amused smirk on her face. "That boy of yours, so clumsy. It'll be a wonder if he achieves anything at all, if that's what he's like."

Quite a pretty young thing. Green hair, sad eyes. Not teared up or anything. The kind of sad you bury deep down. Don't dare let the world see.

"Honestly. Scratching himself on that arrow. Such a stupid thing to do! Now he'll have to bear a Stand instead of a Geass. Assuming he lives." A brief pause, and suddenly the shopkeeper realized several important facts. "Well. Of course you'd say that. Still, there's no real way to be certain until the time comes. What? Make a contract anyway? How silly. There isn't a soul alive that can bear both Stand and Geass at the same time. The strain is too much."

The first can be expressed by pondering the question of who exactly she was conversing with. He had expected to see a little wire trailing down into a pocket somewhere, but there was nothing like that he could see. This led him neatly towards his second observation. Those sleeves weren't long because it was ill fitting. In point of fact, that particular jacket had probably been fitted up for her and her alone.

"It's a shame really. I had high hopes for him. Hm? Well. I suppose some might consider him attractive, but - Now, now! This is hardly the time to play matchmaker. You know how I feel about Stands. Horrible things. Completely wicked."

_Ignore her ignore her ignore her and maybe she won't get the crazy all over my clothes. _Because crazy, now that's a complete mess to try and clean up. It was none of his business and he had no intention of making it so. The best thing for him to do would be to duck out of sight and get as far away-

"Excuse me? Didn't you know that a gentleman doesn't listen in on a lady's private conversation?"

Images of his life flashed before his eyes. The shopkeeper dropped to his hands and knees, and he begged profusely for forgiveness, that he didn't mean to be so rude and thoughtless and that he would never ever do it again. Honest he wouldn't!To his great relief, the girl shrugged and left with nothing more than a shrug and a satisfied smile. Too close for comfort.

"That man is far too stressed for his own good," the girl said, probably thinking she was out of his range of hearing. "Hm? What's so funny all of a sudden?"

The girl stopped. For a horrible moment the thought occured. She was going to come back to do something about his stress. He could see it so easily. Him cowering in the corner in abject terror as that cute face turned into a sinister, monstrous smile. She would reach into that jacket, and from her sleeve produce nothing more than a pen. Just a pen. And with that pen she would show him a hell that would make him wish he had been in that war zone instead of just on the outside -

The fear returned stronger still when he heard her stifle a laugh. "Yes," the girl said. "I suppose you are quite right. There is another. There most certainly is!"

To that shopkeeper's great relief, the girl walked away. He would never see her again, outside of the occasional nightmare.

* * *

"See you later, Shirley!"

She turned smiled and waved at her fellow swim club member, but didn't really feel like smiling at the moment. Funny the way humans are, putting on a false face for the benefit of others. Never daring to let slip their true selves, their true thoughts. Whether out of concern for what they think, to protect themselves or to protect others. We all wear masks. We all hide something from the world, sometimes even to the point that we hide it from -

Shirley stopped in her tracks and stared out the front gates. What. Really. He was this late back? What the hell kept them so long? She shook her head and carefully walked up to the oblivious boy and patiently waited with arms crossed while he climbed off the bike. Waiting. Just waiting for him to notice her.

"Can't believe that idiot," Rivalz said, removing his helmet with a weary sigh. "The things he does sometimes…"

"Oh, tell me about it," Shirley said. "Skipping school to go gambling, hanging up on a friend when she calls him, not bothering to even call back, the list does go on doesn't it?"

It was a little bit satisfying seeing him almost jump out of his skin like that. But only a little bit. For now, she wanted a few answers.

"Ah! Shirley! S-sorry, I didn't see you!" he said.

"I didn't see you either," Shirley replied. "Or Lelouch. All afternoon. Honestly, if the two of you keep on cutting classes like this you'll be held back a grade! It's because you keep on dragging Lulu out for those stupid chess gambles. Without that sort of distraction he might actually apply himself, and use that brilliant brain of his to -"

_He's a very bad man, and you like it._

Shirley wheeled around where she was standing, and saw absolutely nobody there. Huh? But that was right next to her? Where did they -

"Uh, are you alright?" Rivalz asked.

"Never mind," Shirley said. "I thought there was someone standing… Forget it! Where is Lelouch anyway? Drop him off at another gamble?"

"Well, no actually," Rivalz said. "That idiot just had to go and try to help out at a crash. Climbed into the truck to see if anyone was hurt, then it drives off with him in the back. The driver probably didn't even see him enter."

"And you just let him go without trying to help?" Shirley said. "You - You idiot! What if - what if Lelouch is hurt?! What if he's in trouble?! M-maybe that's why he - he hung up on me earlier and didn't call back! You just left him there without trying to help!"

"Woah, easy now Shirley! You're letting your imagination get the better of you. We don't know anything at all about it, and you're just thinking about the worst case scenario. Relax, I'm sure Lelouch is just fine! You'll see him tomorrow, and he'll be right as rain."

Letting her imagination get the better of her? Maybe. Just a little bit. Rivalz was right, for once. She really didn't know anything at all about where he was or what had happened to him. Maybe her original assumption about him just being rude in hanging up the phone was the right instinct after all? Maybe his phone was out of power, or the signal had cut off, or…

"See you tomorrow, Shirl!" Rivalz yelled, dashing off into the building with a cheeky wave.

"Hey!" she yelled at his retreating figure. "Get back here! I'm not done with you yet! Ugh. If only that boy wasn't such a lousy influence on Lelouch. Maybe then he'd -"

_Realise your feelings for him? _

All of a sudden there was a loud sound, like a thunderclap right next to her. Once Shirley had finished nearly jumping out of her skin, she turned around and stared at Rivalz's bike. More specifically, she stared at the inexplicable dent that had manifested in the side of it. Shirley blinked and shook her head. Strange. For a fraction of a second, she could have sworn she'd seen a disembodied foot hovering in the air, just next to the dent.

* * *

Ashford Academy. A place reserved for the best, the brightest, the richest. A private institution owned and operated by the Ashford Foundation. The Headmaster was Ruben K Ashford, and the student council president was Milly Ashford.

Now, it's obvious to point fingers and scream nepotism, but not in this instance. It would be easy to leap to this conclusion given the manner in which Britannian society worked, especially at the top most levels. In this instance though, things were much more fair and reasonable. Milly had earned her place. She had worked hard, but the interesting thing was that she didn't really need to. Even before obtaining the position half the student body already liked her, and the other half hadn't the opportunity to find out she existed yet.

To put it simply her mission statement was to ensure that every student remembered their time in the Academy. She wanted to see them bring out their talent in all areas, and if even a single one of them was lacking something she wanted to do everything she could to help them sort it out. So, on the surface it might seem like she was given the position by her family. The truth was anything but. She earned it. She deserved it. She owned it. She loved it.

Which led nicely to why she was in the computer labs after school hours, because it was rather obvious that there was something not quite right going on under her very nose. A member of her very own student council! Now, that wouldn't do. Would not do at all.

Nina Einstein. Oh, Nina! Whereas the other members were able to enter on a combination of academic accomplishments and charisma, Nina was different. Nina was the textbook definition of introverted. Quite often people would simply forget she was even a member. That girl blended into the background just that much. But she was! A valuable member, just like the rest of them were.

So it was kind of sad to realise that, outside the council, that girl didn't actually have any friends. It was the kind of thing she couldn't let stand by unchallenged! She would either find some friends for that girl or die trying! Preferably not actually dying in the process.

So here she was. Peering in through the doorway into the computer lab. Where Nina was sitting at a computer, staring intently at the screen. Tap tap tapping away at the keyboard. Whatever was that girl up to? Running another of her simulations or whatever it was she did? Milly crept into the room on tip toes and when the moment was right executed her undefeated perfect attack!

The Flying Glomp.

"Nina!" she cooed. "Nina Nina Nina! Fancy meeting you here!"

"M-Madam President! Wh-what brings you here?" Nina said, squirming so cutely in her embrace. Milly backed off to give the girl a little breathing room, no need to suffocate the poor thing.

"Why, I suppose I could ask you the very same thing!" Milly said, her gaze falling upon the screen for the first time. She tilted her head in confusion. That really wasn't what she was expecting at all.

It was a picture of a grey sinister face. It had no eyes, only a pair of slanted black voids. At the bridge of its nose was a peculiar protrusion that extended up the forehead, looping off around to the left. The mouth had exaggerated lips with a pair of tiny fangs protruding, almost menacingly - no, like a warning - from the mouth. After a moment, Milly realised that she wasn't looking at a face exactly. The shape of it - that was a mask. A mask made of -

Nina closed the image, blushing quite furiously. "P-please, this is a private conversation," she insisted.

"A private conversation?" Milly said. "I see! You've made an Internet buddy! What are they like?"

"H-His name is Damocles," Nina said, typing in the letter 'brb'. "We met online about a month ago. He's really interested in my ideas about a new way to harvest energy from Uranium-235 , and he's been telling me about the research he's been doing."

Well then! Perhaps her mission here today wasn't quite so necessary after all. Sure, she'd never see her friend face to face but did it really matter? A friend was a friend. Who knows, maybe she'd open up a little bit with other people as well? Milly took a seat, fully intending to listen with rapt attention. Even if the subject didn't turn out to be all that interesting, it would be rude to do otherwise.

"He's been looking into an ancient barbaric culture that used to perform human sacrifice," Nina said. "It's awful. They'd tie someone to an altar, and then they would be sacrificed by someone wearing that awful mask."

"How terrible!" Milly said, genuinely feeling a little unwell at the idea. "I suppose they did this to appease the sun or some nonsense?"

"N-no, not really. They thought it would give them - They thought it would make them immortal. Which is stupid, because the first person to try would obviously be killed and they'd all see it didn't work. It's terrifying what other cultures used to be like. This one makes the Elevens look civilised by comparison."

"I suppose you must have seen the news just now," Milly sighed. "I could hardly believe it."

"What do you mean?" Nina said. "What happened?"

"You didn't see?" Milly said, genuinely surprised. "Some terrorists attacked a military facility, and then released poison gas in Shinjuku ghetto. No demands were given or anything like that."

"Completely senseless," Nina whispered. "They didn't need to do something like that. They didn't need to, but they did it anyway. What was the point? Mindless brutality. Little better than animals."

The girl trailed off, and Milly sensed that she needed to change the conversation back to something else, lest she lose the girl in her own fears. Poor thing was obviously rather shocked by the news. No. Not so much shocked. That would imply she was surprised. Strangely, it seemed more like validating a fear she had.

"Human sacrifice conducted in the name of an impossible power! It sounds like your friend Damocles has a very interesting career. I'm impressed he can keep up with that, and your theories!"

"He does have quite a versatile knowledge base," Nina said. Goodness, she snapped back quickly. This was the most animated Milly had seen the girl ever since they'd known each other! "He also mentioned something about an ancient, ornate set of arrows which have gone missing over the years..." Nina continued, pulling up the picture to show Milly. The student council president simply smiled at the girl, grateful that she was showing an interest in interacting with the outside world. It was just the thing she needed. Not only would it make her a better student council member, it would also help round her out as a person.

* * *

You could tell a great deal about a man by the state he keeps the place he works. Take this office in particular. It had a certain classical taste without seeming archaic. The windows were ornate, the desk pristine. Oak carved. Meticulously crafted, with nothing daring to sit atop it save an equally masterfully crafted globe.

What was even more telling was the lack of chairs. Note the plural form. There was a chair. Just one. Anyone else paying a visit would have to stand, and the strange thing was that even though this visitor might well be looking down upon the person whose office this was, the impression given was that they were the ones being towered over.

Villetta did not feel that intimidation. Not in the slightest. She had no reason to be intimidated by this person. Perish the thought. In front of anyone else, if she were to deliver this debriefing then she might be a little bit nervous. Not so much Jeremiah. Because if there was anything he valued above all other things.

"I believe you of course," Jeremiah said. "But that's not to say anyone else will."

It was loyalty. One could say it was his currency. Give it to him, and he would repay it in kind. The two of them had worked together long enough to develop an understanding. It was this kind of understanding that meant she could say to him with a completely straight face "I was shot by an almost entirely invisible person" and be taken seriously. She wasn't entirely certain of it herself.

"Given the head injury you suffered immediately afterwards, some might argue you dreamed it. At the very least we should be grateful you didn't develop amnesia."

"No, of course not," Villetta replied. "Developing amnesia in such a manner is the sort of thing best kept in soap operas."

"I would advise keeping that part to yourself for the time being," Jeremiah said. "For now I'm more interested in your reputation. Owing your life to an honorary Britannian? I can overlook that, but having your frame stolen and used by the enemy? Your reasons for leaving the frame to begin with make sense given our instructions, but you are not the type to leave it unsecure."

"I can offer no explanation," Villetta said. "The thief must have taken it after I was rendered unconscious."

"Doubtless Kururugi will claim it happened after he had taken you away. For the time being, let's focus on him and the problems he presents."

"It's sickening," Villetta said. "That idiot Lloyd gave a lowly honorary Britannian an experimental knightmare frame! That honour should have gone to a true Britannian, not some -"

Jeremiah waved it aside. "I feel the same way. As if anyone but a real Britannian can be trusted with such expensive equipment. Why, for all we know he shot you himself to set up a rescue! Ah, but that's just idle paranoid speculation. I have no real reason to believe that."

"We cannot allow him to remain as a pilot for this Lancelot model," Villetta said. The thought was increasingly uncomfortable the more she considered the implications. Herself and Jeremiah were members of the Purebloods. The inevitable response to the Honorary System, which offered Numbers the opportunity to raise their status. How foolhardy! Britannia did not get to be where it was by borrowing from other cultures! They conquered! And then they showed the backwards culture something better, raising them up from the beasts by proximity.

This was the truth that the Purist Faction accepted: That Britannia had no need or want of outsiders, that the presence of so called Honorary Britannians merely served to sully their society by being given the opportunity to exist within it.

"It is my experience that honorary Britannians intend to use the system to raise their place in the world," Jeremiah said. "It is all about their status and standard of living." Jeremiah chuckled. "Strangely poetic, is it not? How little honour they have. They easily cast away friends and family, not because it is the right thing to do. Only for themselves, their own life and comfort. Honorary Britannians have no sense of [b]loyalty[/b]."

It was a cloudless day. Bright, shining blue sky without the slightest hint of rain. Despite that, the window behind Jeremiah suddenly turned a bright dazzling white as a thunderbolt struck a nearby rooftop. This never made sense to Villetta. She just learned to ignore it. Safest thing for her sanity.

A phone rang. Jeremiah reached beneath his desk and said "Excuse me," before answering it. "Yes," he said, not bothering to introduce himself because anyone calling that number had damn well better know who they were talking to before they dialled. For a minute Jeremiah simply sat and listened. With each passing moment his face underwent a transformation. Gradual. Subtle. His posture straightened out. Tension flowed into him like water down a stream.

"I see," he said, rather tersely. "Continue the investigation. I shall have further instructions shortly."

He hung up the phone and leaned forward in his desk, leaving the impression of gears turning in his head. After a brief moment of contemplation he finally seemed to remember Villetta's presence and spoke.

"Prince Clovis has been found shot in the back. Dead. None of his staff witnessed anything unusual, save his instructions to be left alone. All personnel were accounted for, with nobody witnessing a likely target. His assassin remains unknown, at large, with no apparent trace or clue."

His hand raised into the air, formed into a fist and struck the desk with the force of a hammer.

"Why?" he asked between grit teeth. "Why must history repeat itself in such a manner?! Protection sent away by the victim! No trace of the killer! Too many suspects to count! Why is it happening again?!"

Villetta said nothing. It was obvious that Jeremiah was no longer talking to her. He was contending with his own personal demons, and she knew better than anyone that those demons were about to be wrestled into submission.

Sure enough, like a switch was flipped Jeremiah took a deep breath and relaxed into his seat like nothing had even happened. Which is how it would be for the rest of the conversation. Just a hallucination Villetta had. Nothing more than that.

"This presents us with a unique opportunity to get rid of multiple problems at once," Jeremiah said, exuding greater confidence now than before.

"We can set in motion the dismantling of the foolhardy pointlessly harmful Honorary system, remove that Kururugi rat from the Lancelot program and perhaps even find Clovis' killer."

"You have a plan?"

"Naturally. To begin with, we should announce Clovis' death, and offer rewards for information leading to an arrest. After about a week, we arrest Kururugi with whatever evidence we happen upon in the intermediate time."

"I don't see how that finds Clovis' killer," Villetta said.

"That's the beauty of it. If he thinks we have concluded our investigation with Kururugi's execution, they will grow more lax. A secret investigation outside of the public eye would bear even greater fruit. If need be, we can try them as an accomplice."

"And even if we fail to find the real killer, it will give the Purebloods the level of control required to keep Area Eleven stable."

Jeremiah shrugged in a motion of faux denial of his own ingenuity. Why, this plan almost made her feel a little bit sorry for Kururugi. Almost. But not nearly enough.

* * *

The situation was ridiculous. Tamaki, buried in concrete behind them and yelling insults at the top of his lungs (which everyone seemed to be tuning out). Takako standing in front of them, pointing a gun at them with a manic expression upon her face. A table in front of Kallen and Ohgi, with Takako standing a little distance off on the other side, outside any range they could reasonable grab her before she shot anyone that made a wrong move.

They could probably escape by ducking behind cover. But in so doing Tamaki would be a sitting duck. She would shoot him in the head without hesitation the second they tried to hide. Dammit! What would Naoto do in a situation like this?

His mind went back, just a few short months. Had it really been that long? Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago. Other times, he had to remind himself when he woke up in the morning because it didn't feel at all real.

"_Sometimes I dream, Ohgi. Did I ever tell you? I dream that one day, we will send Britannia scurrying out with their tail between their legs and Japan will stand on its own two feet once again. Sometimes it feels so real I can reach out and touch it."_

"_You'd make a good prime minister."_

"_No. I think you'd be a bit better at that than I would."_

Why did he have to be the one that died? Why not Ohgi? In a terrible moment of clarity, he realised that Takako must feel the same way about her children… Damn this situation! What the hell would Naoto do? How would he placate her? How would he proceed?

He glanced to his right and into the eyes of Naoto's sister. In some ways they were so very similar, yet in other ways so very different. Yet as he looked into those eyes he saw only the similarities: The determination. The drive to free Japan. The will to win. The courage to fight.

That was the answer. That was what Naoto would do. He would fight until he won, or until he could fight no longer.

"I don't think we have a choice," Ohgi said. "We'll play your game."

"I'm glad to hear that," Takako said. "So, who will go first?"

"I will!" Kallen and Ohgi said at once. Ohgi gently laid his hand on her shoulder and stepped past, shaking his head.

"I'm supposed to be in charge here, right? It's only right that a leader leads."

Besides which, Kallen would be far more useful to the resistance than he could ever hope to be. Ohgi reached out for the deck of cards, letting his hand hover out over them. No way to force his choice this time around. He really could take any card he wanted. Ohgi turned his vision towards Takako's eyes, watching her reaction as he tried to make his choice. Nothing. She didn't seem to know which was which either, or perhaps didn't care what happened in what order. So be it.

His hand snapped out, index finger extended on top of a card. It was slide out to the edge of the able, and Ohgi lifted it up in front of his face -

"Ten little Clubs float around his head," Takako sang. "Soon he'll wish that he was dead."

It felt like a hammer struck his shoulder, and that was only the beginning. He released an inarticulate whimper of pain at the same time his hand released the card. As it drifted towards the ground another blow came, landing squarely in his face and very nearly rendering him unconscious. When the third struck his leg he dropped to his knees, and he instinctively attempted to shield his body from the remaining blows which were now raining down upon him, invisibly and from every angle. He could see the card before it vanished on the ground just like the Ace of Spades Tamaki had drawn; Ohgi's was the ten of Clubs. Could she somehow tell which card it was without looking? Marked cards as well as magic? Or - No, was it something else?

Regardless, he felt the bruises form under his skin. He felt the swelling in his face and the tears from pain form in his eyes. But then, just as surely as they had started the blows stopped. There hadn't been many, on reflection after the fact. It hadn't felt like it at the time.

"Ohgi! Are you -"

"I'm fine," he said, waving Kallen off. "Don't worry about me. It's your turn. Let's just get this over with."

"Yes, you pretty young thing!" Takako snarled. "Let's just get this over with. Just like you recklessly decided to kick the hornet's nest."

"Ah, shut your face you stupid old witch!" Tamaki yelled. "You may have a magic deck of cards, but you don't know any damn thing at all! Crazier than a bag full of raccoons!"

Ohgi drew himself to his full height and nodded at Kallen, who turned towards the table and didn't even hesitate at grabbing a card from the table, carefully lifting it so that both she and Ohgi could see. It was -

"Diamonds around her number five," Takako sung. "They'll barely leave her alive!"

All of a sudden a thin trail of blood appeared across Kallen's cheek. She reached up to touch the cut with a small expression of shock, then suddenly used her other hand to grasp the first arm. Ohgi saw a tiny cut appear just above the knee, and another two across her back. Tearing through the clothes and tearing through her skin leaving tiny papercut like trails of blood.

"Nngh!" Kallen gasped.

"Are you okay?" Ohgi asked.

"I'm fine," Kallen nodded. "It just feels worse than it is. Stings like a bitch. I'm fine, I- " she stopped for a moment and stared up at Ohgi, with flash of something behind her eyes. "Of course. Five Diamonds, five cuts. How many times were you -"

"Ten," Ohgi said, following her reasoning. Stupid! How did he miss that? It was so obvious! "I was hit ten times by… something I couldn't even see."

"It took you this long to figure that out?" Takako laughed, not the laugh of enjoyment but from a place where only madness lurked, a place that the sane only knew of because the residents sometimes escaped to terrify them. "I'd offer sarcastic applause, but I'm holding a gun. Please, for my benefit pretend that I did."

"Diamonds cut. Clubs hit. Spades bury," Kallen said. "How much depends on the value we draw. So. What happens when we draw Hearts?"

"That's for me to know, and you to wildly guess at!" Takako said. "You. The handsome one with the swollen eye. Your turn again. Pick your cards wisely, now! Haha!"

"D-dammit, you guys! Get the hell out of here!" Tamaki yelled. "It's my fault you're in this mess! Don't let me being an idiot drag you into this as well!"

"Not a chance! We've left behind too many people today! I'm not leaving you as well!" Ohgi yelled. But even if his mind and his heart was drawing from the well of courage, his body was still trembling. Just from the first card he felt like he was being beaten to death. His instinct was telling him that the best thing to do was to draw low, but he was ignoring that little voice in his head.

He wanted to draw high. He wanted to draw it all upon himself, as much as he could stand. Until the moment that he dropped from being shredded by Diamonds or beaten by Clubs or buried by Spades or whatever the hell Hearts did. A normal person would be looking to survive this game, to win at all costs. But Ohgi? For him victory meant something other than winning. It meant using his life to keep his friends hand lashed out at the deck, and -

"Tsk," Takako sounded disappointed. "Oh well. I suppose you were going to draw Hearts eventually."

The King of Hearts. Ohgi smiled. Yes, this ought to do the job. Something like a King should finish him off, end this game and let Kallen set Tamaki free. He could feel his skin start to tingle, and -

And the pain was fading away. The swelling was vanishing, the bruises and injuries suffered under the raining blows from the Ten of Clubs were disappearing into nothing.

"Hearts… heals?" he said, feeling a little bit dumbfounded.

"Well naturally," Takako said. "I'm giving you a much fairer chance than my family got. Besides which! If the situation was truly hopeless, it wouldn't hurt all that much when you finally succumbed to real despair and guilt, would it?"

"Oh, shut up!" Kallen said as the card vanished in Ohgi's hand. Before it had even finished she'd already picked up another card. "I just want to get this stupid game over with already."

"Three Spades hover without a sound, as they bury you in the ground!"

It was the same thing as with Tamaki. One moment Kallen was standing there holding a card, and the next she appeared to be falling. Unlike Tamaki she didn't fall all that far. Only her feet and lower legs were buried. She tried to step out, Ohgi even pulling at her arms but to no avail.

"I'm stuck!" she said.

"Yeah, at least you can move," Tamaki grumbled, probably thinking neither of them heard his remark. Ohgi's gaze flickered back at the remaining cards on the table. If the game was finished then Kallen and Tamaki would be let loose from their concrete prisons. Okay then. Time for him to draw another card -

"A single diamond in the air, cuts him down without a care!"

The Ace of Diamonds. Tamaki felt a cold presence behind him, but knew that if he turned to look he wouldn't see anything. Not the floating red razor sharp diamond that he imagined was half his size. Not the spectre of death, no skeleton in black robes wielding a scythe. Nothing but the ruins of Shinjuku, and the bodies of the dead. Among whom he would surely now number.

It felt like he'd been run through by a sword, back to front. Or at the very least what he imagined that had to feel like. He felt vital organs being pierced. He felt himself spit up blood. He felt pain and agony the likes of which a living being should not have to suffer, but he didn't even notice himself falling over. His mind was too focused on the pain, the agony, the certainty that he was dying.

"Ohgi!" he heard Kallen scream as his head landed on the table.

"No! Damn bitch!" Tamaki was yelling at a distance that seemed to grow larger with each second. "Once I'm outta here, you're dead! Hear me! Dead! Damn psycho!"

The weird thing was, the pain was disappearing. Was his brain already deprived of oxygen? He had expected an injury like that would have killed him very slowly, leaving him in agony for hours as he bled out. Or maybe it had hit a major artery. Who could say? He could but speculate he could but-

He could but stand up. Alive. Feeling healthier than he had in years. Ohgi stared at his hands in disbelief. How was that possible? What happened?

"He's a zombie!" Tamaki yelled unhelpfully. "Kallen, you gotta go for the head! It's the only way!"

"Shut up, idiot!" Kallen said. "He isn't a zombie, he's just insanely lucky! That Ace of Diamonds should have killed him!"

It was odd, but looking in her eyes Ohgi saw something. Calculation. She was running it through in her head. He had seen that same sort of look whenever she was checking out a fight she was about to get into, scoping out her opponent, the way they moved, likely weaknesses. Except that this was a different kind of calculation. She was working out something else entirely.

"When you fell," she started. "Your finger brushed a card on the table. That card there. See that? It's still there!" Kallen turned her attention towards Takako, who looked very, very annoyed and like she might just pull the trigger to shut Kallen up. "You led us to believe that the act of drawing a card was what it took to trigger the effect, and then the card would vanish. It doesn't work that way at all, does it? All you have to do is touch the card and it triggers. They only vanish when someone looks at the face value."

"Yeah! But so what?!" Takako yelled. "So what if he got a little bit lucky and happened to touch the Ace of Hearts! So what?! Because you know something? You're going to draw that same card right now and look at the value! Remove it from the game right now! I won't let you use such a valuable card to heal later on whenever you want!"

Damn. And it looked like they had just accomplished something in this game! Now they couldn't even use the Ace of Hearts, the most powerful healing card in the game, to ensure they could heal whenever they wanted. Except… The expression on Kallen's face. There was something about it, like she had already won the game.

"That's fine," Kallen said. "I already intended to draw it anyway." Her hand reached out across the table, and gripped the face down Ace of Hearts between her fingers. But she didn't take it. Not yet. The tiny cuts on her face and body vanished without a trace, and she lifted out of the ground, standing on top of it instead of just beneath. Kallen took a series of deep breaths with her eyes closed before beginning to speak.

"Earlier today, I was piloting a stolen Glasgow against several enemy Sutherlands," she said. "Against even one, I don't think I could have done much more than delay my own defeat. They were toying with me. Waiting for me to drop my guard, run out of power and then take me prisoner. At a crucial moment a voice came over the communicator, offering me a chance to win. All I had to do was put my life in the hands of a complete stranger."

"Interesting story," Takako said. "Failing to see the relevance."

"The point is, if I did nothing I would lose. If I took a chance, then I might win. Only one route lay before me that would lead to victory, so I took it. That's why I fight. If I do nothing, then nothing will improve. But if I fight on, some day there's a chance it will!"

"And that excuses causing massacres like this?!"

"It isn't meant to! You're simply blaming the wrong person! I'm telling you why this game is over!"

Kallen took a deep breath and withdrew the Ace of Hearts from the deck. But she didn't pull the card towards herself. Instead, she pulled it straight upwards, lifting several other cards clear off the table as well. To Ohgi, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Takako gasped. Tamaki yelled something rendered incoherent by the slowness of time. Kallen pulled the Ace of Hearts back towards herself, tilted it a slight angle away from Ohgi, away from her own line of sight as well, Then she let out her breath and used the very edge of the Ace of Hearts to strike at the clump of cards, hurtling them through the air towards a still stunned Takako. Five of them landed on her. Some bounced off towards the ground. Her gun joined them, and she stared all around her at something only she could behold.

"Ah! My children!" she said, tears in her eyes. "You've come back to play with mommy? Look at you, all dressed up! Why, you're the spitting image of the Jack of Diamonds and the Queen of Clubs! Come play with mommy, dears!"

"Tsk, crazy bitch!" Tamaki said as Kallen dropped the Ace of Hearts on his head. He lifted out of the ground and stretched his muscles. It made Ohgi feel tired just looking at him. "So, whadda we do with her?"

"We take her to a doctor," Ohgi said, unable to bring himself to watch as the invisible forces assaulted her body. "Someone like that is as much a victim as anyone else here, and I won't leave her to die."

"There is a risk she could identify us."

"Yep. Then again, maybe nobody would believe her. We've got a choice here. Become the monsters she thinks we are, or-"

Well, he didn't need to finish saying it. After all. They really didn't have any choice at all.

* * *

All over Area Eleven, television programmes were interrupted by an emergency message. All eyes fell upon the screen as a serious faced, solemn reporter began to deliver his message to a world he knew was unaware of the tragedy he had to deliver.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Area Eleven," the reporter began. "Earlier today, we reported on an event within Shinjuku ghetto where terrorists released poison gas into the population. At the time, we had believed it would be the worst, most tragic news item of the week. It is therefore my sad duty to inform you that this assumption was… Incorrect.

"Shortly following the resolution of this crisis, Prince Clovis - Beloved Viceroy of Area Eleven - was found shot in the back by an unknown assailant. He was pronounced dead on the scene. At this time, further details regarding the investigation are being kept from the press in order to keep the culprit from using us to escape justice. As and when further details are given clearance to air, they shall be.

"For the time being, Margrave Jeremiah had this to say."

The camera cut away, revealing Jeremiah Gottwald to the stunned public. He stood before the cameras as the very image of a military figure. Tall. Proud. Determined. After a moment of standing still with his eyes closed, they came open and he began to speak.

"This travesty shall be avenged," he began, his voice roaring through every screen in Japan. "The people of Area Eleven - No rather the people of Britannia can rest assured that all measures shall be taken to discover the truth of this case! Whoever they are, whatever their reason we shall not rest until we have them dragged into court! For anyone that comes forward with information of genuine use to resolving this incident, a reward shall be granted! But know that anyone found to deliver a false lead shall also be prosecuted.

"Until the time that a new permanent Viceroy is assigned and installed, I shall behave as acting Viceroy. I shall continue on by following our beloved Clovis' policies and practises, and I promise you. I may not fill his role as admirably, but I shall endeavour towards that ideal with every breath I take.

"This part is addressed to the perpetrator alone: You shall be captured! You shall be tried! And justice will fall upon your wicked head! You can not run! You cannot hide! And by the time this investigation is concluded you shall feel the wrath, know the sting and the outrage of my **loyalty**!"

If he had anything else to say after that, nobody got to hear it. For reasons that still baffled scientists for years after (in particular keeping Lloyd up at night for a whole week) an electrical storm struck the entirety of Area Eleven all at the same time, rendering the television signal quite thoroughly dead for a whole hour afterwards.

And somewhere in that Area, a young boy was sitting with his sister and they were listening quite intently to that speech. The boy allowed himself a private smile. It appeared to him as though another game was about to begin, and he could hardly wait to see how it turned out.

**[To Be Continued |\|]**

Stand Stats

**Ace of Spades**

**User: Takako Matsuzawa**

**Stats**

Destructive Power C

Speed N/A

Range N/A

Durability N/A

Precision N/A

Developmental Potential E

**Abilities**

**Spirit Assault: **Ace of Spades takes the form of a deck of playing cards that is visible to non-Stand users, and operates Automatically under the following rules. When a card's face value is seen it will disappear shortly afterwards. When a card is touched, its spirit will attack whoever touched it. The intensity of the attack depends on the card's value, and the nature depends on its suit.

**Spades Attack**: Buries victim from feet up.

**Diamonds Attack: **Cuts victim at random points on body.

**Clubs Attack**: Bludgeons victim at random points on body.

**Hearts Heal**: Recovers injuries at random. Will also dig victim out of holes resulting from Spades Attack.

**Shuffle: **User may safely shuffle and offer cards to others without being attacked by spirits. If in contact with cards for any other reason, spirits will attack user.


	5. Waking Up

**Chapter 5: Waking Up**

So this was it. He was ready at last. Years of preparation, whole months worth of fantasies both intense and idle about this moment had flitted across his consciousness during all that time. What he might do, things he might say, tortures he might invent, cruelty that would be named for him and for this moment of vengeance.

It had been a difficult task. Even with this power he had been granted by random chance, this had been an elusive person. They had hidden under every rock it seemed, throwing distractions and red herrings with each and every step they took. But now? This person had no place to run. No place to hide. No remaining allies to hide behind. Completely unaware of their incoming destiny. An encounter the better part of a decade in the making, a dish served so cold it would burn.

A smile split his face: His shadow was peeking around the corner. The target had arrived. The fool thought this was a safe house. He believed he could hide here, out of harm's way. No such place existed in this world, a fact that would be a delight to teach.

The target stepped out around the corner clad head to toe. He kept his head low, with a simple hat obscuring his features. Wait for it. Wait for the moment that he reaches for the door. Up the first step, nervously stop. Then glance around as if expecting to see someone there. Nobody here, of course. Just us creatures of darkness, no need to keep that guard up. Another step and he fumbles for his key in his pocket, even managing to drop it.

"Such a clumsy hand you have," Lelouch said, allowing himself to become fully visible. In his hand was a gun. "Unfortunately for you, mine is much steadier. Please, turn around. I would prefer to be the last thing my mother's killer sees."

The man rose to his full height with hands raised above his head. He began to laugh, a little thing at first but it grew in volume by leaps and bounds until it seemed to echo from every surface. At first he believed it to be his response to defeat but each sharp intake of breath, each bellowed note of insanity sung an entirely different tune.

"I said turn around!" Lelouch said, and the laughter ceased. At last. He could look the man in the eyes. He could see their face. Twisted in anger, beaten back by madness. A more perfect mask of bitter cruelty could never exist in this world or any other. Yet, somehow a second later Lelouch realised whose face he was looking at.

"Sorry, brother!" the other Lelouch said, releasing a fit of giggles like air escaping a balloon."Long before that beast ever got a taste of you, it had already consumed me whole."

The ground beneath his feet seemed to shift away, the reflection faded like a ghost and suddenly the buildings all around him took on an appearance more like teeth. The sky grew a sinister blood red, the moon looked like a gunshot wound and the next Lelouch knew he was falling, falling into a bottomless abyss -

That only ended when he sat up in his bed, drenched in sweat and breathing like he'd just come out of gym class. A bad dream, he thought. How cliche. Almost pedestrian. Still. It hardly stopped him from having it. Nor did it stop him from winding up in the bathroom a minute later, with his head over the bowl.

Once he had reacquainted himself with self control, Lelouch rose up towards the mirror and splashed his face with water. He looked at the reflection. Exhausted. Not quite awake yet, but at that point where it was pointless to try and sleep. Was this the price of his first real victory? He would have to adjust to this. The Nobles he beat at chess were small fry. Clovis was a bigger fish, but there were others much larger he still needed to land. Was this a reaction to the stress, was it anticipation, fear he would be caught? No. Lelouch knew his own mind better than that.

Yesterday, he had been forced to kill. It's a funny thing, really. The soldiers he had shot were one matter. They were faceless goons, it was easy to dehumanise them, forget they were people. Clovis? A different matter altogether. He had known Clovis personally, they were of the same family. No matter his thoughts or feelings on the matter it was impossible to forget that this man, no matter what he had done was certainly a human being. Complicated, nuanced, brilliant in some ways and terrible in others.

Yet he knew it was more than that. Lelouch had never taken a life before yesterday. How many had he killed directly or not? How many more would die tomorrow or the day after? How much blood would stain his hands before he was done, before vengeance was satisfied. Clovis had described it as a beast, and Lelouch could see that now. A ravenous monster with an insatiable appetite that demanded blood sacrifice, more and more and more by the day.

"Guess I'm not so tough as I thought I was," Lelouch said to his reflection. Painted Black moved behind him as if to give him a reassuring pat on the back. Rather an amusing Stand, aren't we? Lelouch nodded and smiled at it, then set about compartmentalizing his thought process so he could better keep things organised. As it was, the thoughts were coming at him in a jumble. If he intended to keep himself sane, if he intended to resolve these issues rather than repress them then the first step was simply keeping it organised. Few people knew their own mind so well as Lelouch, and even as he stepped out into the dining area in his uniform with all traces of exhaustion carefully concealed he had already resolved to continue down the path he had begun to tread.

"Good morning, big brother!" Nunnally said. Ah, Nunnally. A sweeter, more innocent angel could never exist upon this world. Already, being in her presence made him feel calmer, reminded him what he was fighting for. Of course he could never tell her what he was doing for her sake: Hers was a soul too pure to be sullied with blood. "I heard you awake much earlier today. Were you having trouble sleeping?"

"Good morning Nunnally," he replied. Observant of him as ever, nothing ever did really get past her. "Can you blame me for having trouble sleeping? After all -"

"I know," she interrupted. "It's so terrible. Those poor people, and Clovis as well."

"Hey now, let's try not to dwell on it too much. There's nothing we can do to change any of it, right? Let's talk about something a bit more pleasant, so we can face the day with a clearer head."

A bit more pleasant. Yes, just a little friendly chat with his dear little sister over breakfast about this and that, just what he needed to help keep his head on straight. Nunnally's smile. He knew why she smiled, of course, even if she would never say it. But that was only because as well as she knew him, he knew her every bit as well.

Except this was a mere diversion, a happy haven he could return to whenever he needed to remind himself what he was fighting for. A better future for Nunnally. A gentler world they could live in without hiding, without fear that someone might discover and betray them back to the Empire for use as political pawns. No. That would never be allowed.

Which led rather neatly into a rather interesting question: Where to start? The first real step is the most important on a mission of this magnitude. One does not change the world lightly. Killing Clovis was but an appetiser for the meal yet to come, even if it did make him empty the few contents of his stomach this morning. It was as he had said to Suzaku just yesterday: The power to be invisible allowed for assassination, espionage and sabotage. Britannia would not fall to a one man campaign conducted by these three means. Lelouch was smart, but he knew they'd pick up on how he was doing it sooner or later and certainly not long after he started doing significant enough damage that they devoted even a little bit of resources towards finding him. Furthermore! If Clovis had a Stand, then it was inevitable others in Britannia had them as well.

In short: he couldn't do it alone. He needed allies. For example, those handy rebels he'd commanded yesterday, whichever of them happened to still be alive after that white knightmare frame rained death and misery upon them. Unfortunately he didn't really have a lead for contacting them, they had taken the rather necessary precaution of concealing their names behind codes in case Britannia was listening in.

Except, no. He did have a lead. That one girl he'd seen with the very nearly pink hair, the only one of the group he'd personally seen the face of. And he recognised it from somewhere, knew her name just on the very tip of his tongue. From where had he seen her? How did he know her? As irritating as it was, the answers were not forthcoming. His mind was still not quite awake, perhaps? No matter. He'd just have to keep a close eye out for her in case she appeared again, though it didn't seem all that likely she'd just pop up out of nowh-

All of a sudden, Lelouch found that his ear was being tweaked by an upset orange haired girl.

"Well, at least you're safe after all, mister gambler!" Shirley said. "Do you have any idea how worried we all were?"

"By which she means 'how worried she was'," Rivalz said, giving Lelouch a reassuring pat on the back. "See? Toldja he'd be fine! Maybe next time you decide to play good samaritan, let the driver know first? Oh, hey! There are a bunch of pictures floating around showing off what happened in Shinjuku. It's completely disgusting. Wanna see?"

"I'll pass," Lelouch said. Honestly now, that morbid fascination with the tragedy of others, he'd never be able to understand it. Exploit it, maybe. Understand it? Never.

"What I'm worried about is where they got the stuff in the first place," Shirley said. "Poison gas, and they used it on their own people. How terrible! But now the two of you are trying to change the subject! No more skipping school for gambling! Got it?"

"Ah, it's just a little bit of harmless -" Rivalz began.

"Got it," Lelouch interrupted. "I think I've found something a lot more fun and challenging to spend my time on anyway."

"What?" Rivalz gasped. "Oh! You've got another game lined up? Why didn't you tell me? Cut me in, come on, you know me! I love a good game!"

Lelouch just chuckled it off and walked into the classroom. Yes, today certainly seemed like a bright new day, and he'd have to use this time to plan out his next move. The very first item on the agenda was -

"Kallen! It's been too long! Are you feeling better?"

- Completed. Now, as for stage two…

* * *

She woke up in the very lap of luxury. Her bed was warm, comfortable and smelled a faint peculiar odour that only ever seems to accompany the truly wealthy. The sheets were clean. Beyond clean. Dirt evaporated before it came into contact with these sheets. She fully expected that if she were to spill something and turn her back, by the time she looked around they would be white as snow once again. The room gleamed. It seemed as though every surface was polished, every speck of dust ruthlessly gathered and disposed of. Her room looked like a new room. Every day it was just like it had never been lived in. As though she was the very first person to ever set foot within it since the oak carved furniture was painstakingly crafted assembled and put in place for maximum ease of use. It was a palace of comfort. Every whim and need catered to, sometimes even before knowing they were there.

And Kallen hated every single inch of it. To her eyes it seemed artificial, an illusion tailor made to keep whoever lived here unaware of the true nature of the world. It was here to make people forget that somewhere, hard working people broke their backs just to keep their family from starving. They would humiliate themselves if need be. Subject themselves to all forms of abuse, all manner of derision. Britannia claimed to be a society where the strong survived and the weak perished, but that was far from the truth at all: Certain forms of power were more valuable than others. Those already with that kind of power were ruthless in crushing anyone that looked like they even stood a chance of gaining enough to challenge them, and quite often those with the power hadn't even earned it themselves. The system was rotten from the top down, even if taken at its own values.

Which happened to be values Kallen found abbhorant anyway. So far as she was concerned it didn't matter how much it was sliced or from where: Britannian high society was comprised of either monsters or the ignorant. Or, much more rare, people like herself that despised the system and everything it stood for. The kind of people that saw the corruption and thought of others before themselves. The kind that would give their lives to see it brought tumbling down around those arrogant ears.

There was a knock at the door. "Enter," she said, and her mother entered the room. Not her step-mother. Oh, goodness no. That woman had as little to do with Kallen as was possible given that they lived in the same home. Then again the place was large enough that this turned out to lead to quite infrequent meetings. In truth this woman was her birth mother, and wouldn't it be a shock to the Britannians she knew to learn that her mother was Japanese?

"Good morning mistress," her mother said, carrying a tray intended as breakfast in bed for Kallen. "Strawberry jam on toast, scrambled eggs and fresh orange juice. Your preferred breakfast." And made herself, Kallen could tell at a glance.

"Thank you," she said automatically as the tray was set in place. "I will be attending school today. Please make the necessary preparations."

"Attending school?" her mother said. "I am glad to hear that. I hope you can make some friends there."

"I fail to see why it is your business whether I make friends or not," Kallen said. This might seem harsh to an outsider, but then it wasn't really any of their business either. Her mother had a brief look of sadness then bowed and retreated from the room. One might think that Kallen hated her mother from that reaction, but not at all. The simple truth was, she found the woman terribly depressing. Clinging to an old lover, trying as she did to work in a position she honestly didn't have any right working in. Not because of her race, not because she was Kallen's biological mother: Simply because she was so damn clumsy. A point which was emphasised a little when she heard a crash from just outside the door. Wonderful.

The process of preparing for school was performed automatically, adjusting her hair, modifying her body language. Slipping into the role of the sickly rich girl that only ever actually showed up for exams. Within the hour she was making tiny steps into the main building. Ashford Academy. A prestigious school, quite worthy of the Stadtfeld name. Was it any wonder her father had chosen it for her? How had the advertising spiel gone again? Moulding young minds in preparation for tomorrow. More like brainwashing them with propaganda. HIstory rewritten to favour Britannia while painting all other cultures negatively (though during moments where she stepped back, she supposed all cultures attempted at least this much), science classes that may have been advanced, certainly, with quite modern technology analysed and studied but still, still with a tendency to glorify Britannian achievements while ignoring the possibility that certain ideas might have originated elsewhere. It was the same in every class: Glory be to Britannia while we sweep the other nations underneath the rug.

Other than that little detail it was a rather fine institution. The grounds and building were well maintained and held an aura of regality, lending an air towards that intended impression: Herein lie the future leaders of the Empire, or at least this "Area". But so far as Kallen was concerned her days under cover here were like being slow roasted alive and being forced to smile the entire time.

"Omigod, Kallen! It's been forever!" said the first spoiled rich girl to see her. "How have you been? Are you feeling better?" The buzzards swarmed after her in the classroom, surrounding her desk.

"Yeah," she replied. "I just have to take it easy for a little while."

"That's a relief! Say, did you hear about Shinjuku yesterday?"

"Oh, I know! Wasn't it terrible?"

Yes. It actually rather was. The way the blame had been shifted to the wrong people, even to the point where the victims believed the lie. Like Takako, that poor woman with a magic deck of cards. What would she have been able to do if she'd decided to use those cards for reasons other than revenge? What if she'd used them for the sake of justice and freedom? What would have happened then?

"Don't look now," one of the girls whispered in a particularly conspiratorial manner. "But it looks like you've gotten the eye of one Lelouch Lamperouge! You lucky girl!"

"Lucky nothing. If she sets her sights on Lulu, Kallen's gonna have to contend with competition from Shirley."

"Please, like that's any contest! If Kallen turns on her charms, that boy over there would be putty in her hands! Oh gosh, that's right, you don't know who he is, do you? He's the vice president of the student council, one of those cool intellectual handsome types. That's him there, trying to pretend he wasn't looking this way."

Kallen followed the pointed finger out of the tedium if nothing else. A rather tall boy that reeked of arrogance even in a society that spread it around like ebola. Lucky, huh? An admirer was the last thing she needed right now. Especially one that's apparently quite popular in school. Had she discovered yet another way this place could torture her?

"What's up now buddy, see something you like? Kallen Stadtfeld… Pretty solid choice if you ask me!"

"Sounds like they're talking about you," one of the girls (Sophie she thought) whispered. "Come on, let's pretend we're still talking but listen in to what they're saying."

Ugh. High school gossip. Though this was still the most interesting thing that had happened to her since she'd arrived by quite the large margin.

"Not at all," Lelouch replied, and his voice niggled something in the back of her head. "It's just a rare event to see her in school."

"Oh, I'm sure that's all it was," his friend said. "Tell you what, you cut me into whatever game you've found and I'll give you Rivalz' patented book of never fail pick up lines!"

"Never fail, you say? Sorry. Not interested."

"Aw, c'mon Lelouch! After that crash yesterday, my motorbike got this awful dent in it! I need that cash to get it straightened out!"

"W-Well maybe if you'd been driving more carefully, that accident wouldn't have happened. I guess?" said a nervous orange haired girl.

"That's Shirley, your competition," one of the girls whispered. "She's had a crush on Lelouch forever, but he's completely clueless. Good thing too otherwise she'd probably snap him right up. She's also a member of the student council, and so is that boy Rivalz."

"Maybe it wouldn't have," Rivalz said. "And maybe then Lelouch wouldn't have gotten into the back of that white truck to make sure they were alright! Funny thing, huh? Good thing they weren't those terrorists, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now."

Kallen tried very, very hard not to grip the side of her desk lest she accidentally break it. They caused the accident? They caused Nagata's death? And then that boy, he climbed into the back of the truck… The way his eyes had flickered briefly over towards her after Rivalz had said that. Could it be? Had he seen her? If so… If he had seen her, then she had no choice at all. She had to deal with this and deal with it quickly.

* * *

There was a knock at the door at the crack of dawn. A voice called into the room: "Mistress! This is your wake up call! Breakfast shall be ready soon." Then a series of soft footsteps walking down a corridor, walking down stairs leaving the occupant of the room awake, staring at the ceiling. At times like this she had the urge to pinch herself in that old cliche reminder that this was not a dream, not a fantasy. She was living the life she had always dreamed of living, life at the top, life where you had influence and power and money. This was what she wanted. No. This was what everyone wanted, whether they admitted to it or not. She rose and dressed in her uniform, ready for the day, ready to face the responsibility and work that came with that rise in power.

Breakfast was - as always - sublime. Had she not been fully awake by the time she'd sat down to consume it, she would certainly be afterwards. She thanked her maid, requested the agenda for the day, then sent her off on her duties. To begin with: A meeting with her boss. A man who would for a short time be the boss of everyone in the Area. Which meant that she had to leave rather soon, and so she did. Walking out the front door towards her transportation.

Villetta stopped and cast a look back at the mansion with a critical eye. It was a beautiful building though she lacked the training in spotting the manner in which it accomplished this. The neighborhood was much the same. Splendid buildings reserved for people in similar positions as herself: A Knight. But still. As part of her new lifestyle she had been exposed to certain things. Bigger buildings with even more grand architecture she still couldn't find the words to describe. Places that must seem like palaces to the ordinary man on the street, but Villetta knew better: A palace would make even these buildings pale in comparison.

It was like climbing a mountain, believing yourself at the top and then seeing yet another peak still to climb. She had become a Knight off her own blood and sweat: What of the descendants she hoped to have some day? Would they be forced to climb the same perilous route as their mother (and possibly father)? The system was harsh for a reason. A very good reason. One did not simply walk into nobility. One must earn it. One must crawl over the rest of the rabble struggling towards the top and prove to them, and to yourself, that you truly do earn it over all others. Which is perhaps why it galled Villetta so much that Kururugi had simply waltzed in and taken on the role of pilot for a single action, without seeming to do very much of anything at all. A mere honorary! A pilot in an experimental Knightmare Frame! Well, he was welcome to his little glimpse at the top before he was sent plummeting back down. Only the strong can reach the very top. Only the strongest stayed there.

It was Villetta's mission in life to stay there, plant her flag and ensure it stayed in place for generations still to come. She would become a Baroness, a title of true nobility, for a Knight's title lasted but a generation. Then she would find a husband, perhaps a true noble, perhaps a Knight, who could say what the future might bring? Her children would be assured a place at the top and then -

Well. Perhaps she would find another peak to climb. Never mind that for now. This was for tomorrow. As for today she had a meeting with her boss, and it was on this day that he would be taking the reins for just a little while.

She walked into the office of Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald and found him staring out the window at a cloudless sky. To his left was Kewell Soresi, standing at attention. He smirked when Villetta entered the room.

"Well then, look who's finally arrived!" Kewell said, even though Villetta was easily half an hour early for the scheduled meeting. "What's the matter? Get rescued by another honorary on the way here?"

"Care to say that again?" Villetta said, keeping her cool on the outside, but letting it bubble up on the inside.

"Now, now! This is no time for us to fight among ourselves!" Jeremiah said, turning around with his hands behind his back. "We stand in the wake of a terrible tragedy! If we do not show solidarity, the only ones to profit shall be those that caused it in the first place!"

"I apologise Margrave," Kewell said. "But her conduct during the battle yesterday serves to weaken our position. Permitting herself to be put in a situation that required rescuing by a mere honorary Britannian, a Private in the military no less -"

"Is of no consequence," Jeremiah said. "Villetta has repeatedly demonstrated her loyalty -" a flash of lightning lit the window, leaving the only visible sight in the office as Jeremiah's silhouette. " - To Britannia, to the Purebloods and to myself. As for Kururugi! We shall implicate him in Clovis' death and have the public believe that there was a conspiracy to put him into the situation where he could do this. It will turn public opinion against the honorary system, giving us free reign to dismantle it at our leisure. But first! We must bring everyone of influence over to our way of thinking. Later, I shall be conversing with that producer, Diethard. Before that time I intend for the two of you to take up some additional responsibilities to ensure everything continues to turn as it should."

"Additional responsibilities?" Villetta said. "What did you have in mind?"

Jeremiah took his seat, smiled, and began to explain what he meant. It made sense, in a way. As Margrave he had certain tasks that were expected of him, men to delegate, tasks to assign. Now that he was acting Viceroy those responsibilities had exploded further still. As great a man as he might be, any real leader knows that the first thing they must learn is how and when to delegate. Which is precisely what was happening now. The meeting itself was a blur in her memory afterwards, discussions regarding responsibilities and expected outcomes. What it boiled down to was simply this:

Jeremiah would head the public investigation, the one intended to point the finger at Suzaku Kururugi.

Kewell would lead the true investigation, searching for Kururugi's accomplice. This was intended as his top priority.

And Villetta herself would be placed as temporary head of security. Should any Elevens foolish enough to think that Clovis' death meant they could take the chance to rise up, she would stomp them back down. Without mercy. Without hesitation.

The meeting was over, and they were dismissed. She was back in her own office, now. Not quite as fanciful as Jeremiah's, but it did its job. She was barely in here anyway. Only when she had to fill in paperwork. She'd rather be out training, or on duty, or at the very least demonstrating that yesterday was a simple fluke. A one off event. Something she could do to make up for -

Her phone rang before she even sat down. "Yes, what is it?" she asked.

"This is Colonel Breedington, reporting an incident at Shinjuku Ghetto! Looks like those terrorists weren't satisfied with yesterday's work. Please send backup, immediately! Co-ordinates to follow."

"On my way," Villetta said, furiously taking a note of those co-ordinates. A stadium in Shinjuku. A chance had arrived! So quickly! She scrambled to her Sutherland and launched, rushing towards the location with tremendous anticipation. She would show that idiot, Kewell! Worth calling herself a Pureblood? She was more worthy than him!

The stadium was probably impressive once upon a time. Now it lay in ruins, priorities for rebuilding being assigned elsewhere. Living quarters. If you could call it living. She stepped inside, and -

Nobody here. No sign of movement, no sign of weapons. No bullet casings, no fresh debris. Nothing at all to indicate anything had happened here at all. Her instincts were finally honed enough to propel her forward, sensing the attack before being consciously aware of it. She spun around in place and came face to face with -

Another Sutherland? She opened a channel. "Identify yourself!" she yelled, readying her gun. Had they stolen another Knightmare Frame? Damn them!

"As you wish," a cool voice said. Calm. Composed. The kind of person that seemed to be sitting down for dinner instead of preparing for battle. "This is Colonel Breedington from Code-R. And you, you are Villetta Nu. The worthless so-called Pureblood that couldn't even retrieve an arrow."

"So that's what this is about?" Villetta said. "In which case - " she opened fire and smirked when the enemy Sutherland didn't even budge. "You've made a tremendous miscalculation!"

Except… Somehow the enemy Sutherland didn't seem to be shot up at all. Villetta wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. What was this? The bullets… It was as though they had vanished into thin air!

She willed herself out of the way of the return fire, spinning her frame across the ground like an ice skater. How had he done that? How did he make her bullets vanish?!

If a ranged strike wouldn't work, then she would have to try something else.

Villetta sprayed the ground in front of him with bullets, kicking up dust in an attempt to cover her own rapid approach. She dashed forward with the intention of shoulder barging the enemy unit to the ground, but felt herself being knocked back by a force she couldn't see.

"Impressive," Breedington said. "That would have sent most people reeling."

Again! Once might be an accident, but a second time. And that confidence! Villetta's mind cast back to yesterday. An arm sticking out of the shadows. Holding a gun, with no body attached to it. "You… You have some kind of special ability! Don't you? You work for Code-R? Is this what they've been up to? Researching strange abilities like this?!"

"Very good, figuring out that much!" the enemy replied. "Unfortunately, that just gives me even more reason to kill you!"

Breedington fired his Slash Harkens and Villetta retaliated in kind, intending to deflect the rocket propelled anchors long before they reached.

She hated being on the defensive like this, but until she knew what sort of power she was dealing with what else could she do? The Harkens flew towards one another towing flame resistant cables behind them -

And suddenly, without any apparent warning something invisible blasted her Harkens out of the sky. Villetta was expecting something similar this time, and her reaction ability was beyond enough that she could dodge the incoming Harkens.

She slid to the side, sidestepping the projectile a fair bit closer than she found comfortable. Then again that had its advantages as well, as it let her Sutherland grab hold of the cable from a safe distance.

Her own Harkens were retracted, but his were trapped. Now she had him. With this, Villetta was intending to use it to pull him into striking distance instead of making her own approach.

Whatever power he might have, it was up against her determination and will, and she would not give in so easily!

"A game of tug of war?" Breedington said. "Are you sure about that? Surely you're starting to feel too tired for such an intense activity."

Come to think of it, she rather was. Her breathing was laboured, sweat was pouring off her. But that was impossible. She had only been in the frame maybe ten to twenty minutes, yet it felt like she'd run a marathon! Why? Why did she feel so tired? She checked the internal temperature and gaped at the results.

"What? That's not possible! Why is it so hot in here?" Was something malfunctioning? No! Unless the damage report system was malfunctioning, everything checked out!

"When it comes to Stand, anything is possible," Breedington said, stepping towards her. Now she could feel it. The rising temperature, first like a sauna and then like a burning building. "You know what they say. Play with a Man on Fire and you get burned!"

* * *

She did not know this room and it frightened her at first. Where was she sleeping? Whose bed was this? Whose furniture was that? She turned her head and beheld a certain item lying on the bed next to her. Nobody else was present. She reached out an arm and yelped in pain. Bandaged. Not just her arm, either. An attempt to sit up was ill advised, and intended plans of standing up were put on the back burner for the time being. Probably safest that way. She felt weak, a little dizzy and hurt.

"Where am I?" she said, blinking the sleep from her eyes. "Where is my husband? Where are my -"

The haze of sleep finally swept away and she knew a pain far worse than what had happened to her body. A strangled weep escaped her, filled the room, perhaps the rest of the building, perhaps even the entire street. Everything. It was all gone now. Everything she'd ever worked for, everything she'd ever loved. Gone in a single awful day. Even her revenge was taken from her. All she had left was a deck of cards with abilities she couldn't even predict before they'd vanish into thin air.

"Oh good! You're awake!" said a voice that made Takako's skin crawl. She turned her head a painful inch and beheld the supposed leader of the _reckless harbingers of pain and misery_. Takako's cries of pain and heartache turned into a growl. The man was carrying a bowl of something hot and delicious, which her traitorous stomach demanded be paid immediate attention. "This is for you. Sorry, not much of a cook but I make do."

Takako's eyes must have flickered to her deck, because now the idiot was looking at it as well. "I kept trying to take it away, but it kept on appearing next to you," he said with a slight shrug. "It seemed best to leave it where it was."

"Why?" Takako said. "Why are you doing this? After I tried to kill you and your friends. Why would would you make a clumsy attempt to care for me?"

"It seemed to me like you needed someone to help you," the man replied. "You were hurting in a way that bandages can't heal, and neither can revenge. I don't blame you for hurting us like that yesterday. I blame the grief you are dealing with, the shock of what happened. Hurting me or my friends would not make that pain go away. All it would do is spread it around."

In other words, he couldn't bring himself to kill her but cannot risk the possibility that she will reveal their identities to the authorities. Perhaps a little brainwashing, establish trust, cut her off from the outside world. Then recruit her. No, no her necessarily. Takako's gaze flicked towards the cards on the table. It wasn't difficult to justify his decision not to use the cards. How could he know which was which until he looked at it? Now that he knew they vanished when their values were seen he could not safely use any means to heal her… At least not with any method he was aware of. Takako, on the other hand…

"May I have my cards?" she asked, already knowing the answer. As expected he shook his head.

"No," he replied. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Not so long as you're still unwell."

Unwell, was it? Who would be the judge for how well she was? Would it be him? The fanatic? What a wonderful judge for mental health, without trace of bias or prejudice with no personal investment whatsoever! Why, he could surely be trusted to decide on whether or not she was of sound mind and body!

But Takako's mind was already turning. She was physically incapable of leaving this bed for the time being, and her revenge was still calling to her like the sweetest siren's song. Well then. So be it. She would simply nurture her hatred, keep it hidden away from him until the time was right. She would show a mask of lessening hatred, pretend to be swayed by his sales pitch and then! Once his guard was dropped! When she was able to move herself! She would seize her deck with one hand and her enemy's throat in the other!

"I don't appear to have a choice in the matter," she said, secretly relishing the moment. Which card would she hit him with? Perhaps she would throw every Spade at him at once, watch him become buried alive. Or maybe finish him off with the Ace of Clubs, or - "What should I call you?" she asked.

"Call me Ohgi," the man replied. "Here, have this. You're obviously starving." She took some because on at least that much he was completely correct. Starving. In more ways than one.

* * *

It was strange how quickly he realised it was a nightmare. At first he could not move, like his muscles had been replaced with lead. At first he could not see, for there was insufficient light. Gradually his body and eyes adjusted and he beheld a figure cast in darkness, cloaked in the shadows standing with his back turned. He stood and approached, realising that they were atop a cliff. Down below a tidal wave of metal descended upon the land, twisted warriors in hellish armour crawling unceasingly onwards leaving bloody trails wherever they went.

Yes. This was how he knew what this was. Something like that could not exist in real life. Something like that had to emerge from the depths of something terrible within the human psyche.

"Surrender is not an option," the figure next to him said. "We shall fight them. With every ounce of power. With every breath in our body. Every drop of blood and every tear shed we shall fight them unto oblivion!"

"No," he said, horrified at the scene below. "Those people are being slaughtered! They don't stand a chance!"

"What of it?" the figure said. "To give in would be a humiliation. Better to die on our feet than to live on our knees."

Wrong! That was so terribly wrong! So long as there was life, there was a chance to turn things around. So long as there was a way, one could prevail! But to throw oneself willingly and blindly into the jaws of the beast, to drag others in there with you when there was a chance - just a chance - that no further lives need be lost! That was not courage! It was insanity!

Down below the beast at the front stumbled, and a cheer broke out among the population. They had successfully downed a single beast, and it had only cost them thousands of lives. The creature exploded. One down, countless legion still crawling. A tremendous clamour occurred just behind his head and he turned to look at it. A long, thin sturdy piece of metal, a white lance sticking out of the ground. Pointing directly at him.

"That's enough!" he yelled. "You can't stop them!"

"I don't care," the figure replied. "It's not about stopping them. It's about making them pay for it. It's about -"

"Stupid, stubborn pride!"

"Yes! Pride! And what's wrong with that?"

His heart was pounding in his ears. The sound was only drowned out by the screams, by the rending of flesh and the breaking of bone and the splashing of blood. Carnage. Mayhem. Death. Only one way to stop it. Only one chance to save their lives. He reached back and his hand gripped the white lance, pulling it out of the ground.

"No matter the cost. No matter what it takes! I will do it!" the figure said, but he wasn't listening anymore. He charged towards the figure in the shadows and thrust towards the chest with a bloodcurdling scream. "I swear to you," the figure said, his voice curiously youthful as the lance pierced his heart. "I will crush Britannia!"

The figure fell into the light, and he saw the face for the first time. He stared at his hands. At the blood seeping into the skin. Blood that was not his. The lance, too, was stained with it from top to bottom, a perfect symbol of sullied purity… But all he could see was the light dimming from those dying violet eyes.

And then he woke up. No gradual fade to consciousness, not even falling into being awake. He simply was and that was the end of it. Suzaku Kururugi sat up and took a moment to allow the memories from yesterday wash over him piece by piece. Meeting Lelouch. Untying the girl. Picking up the Knight and carrying her away after Lelouch shot her. Becoming a pilot. Hearing about Clovis being shot.

Busy day yesterday. What would today bring? Perhaps aliens might invade or an ancient evil might wake up with a thirst for human blood. Who could tell? The only thing Suzaku knew for a certainty was that staying in bed was the perfect way to get absolutely nothing done in the slightest little bit. Since there was nothing of note within his apartment worth doing, he dressed up in his civilian clothes and decided to take a walk.

He had no destination in mind. No planned route to take. All he wanted was a chance to wander in the fresh air, stretch his legs and take the opportunity to really think about everything. It was a lot to take in, and a good night's sleep wasn't quite the cure-all he'd been hoping for. He still needed answers. Still hadn't figured out a good way to get them. It was strange. Like he'd run for miles and wound up right back where he'd started -

Suzaku stopped where he was and took a good look around. What? How had he ended up here of all places?! "Shinjuku," he said to himself, astounded that he'd somehow managed to bring himself back here. From all appearances the very same place he'd encountered Lelouch. The buildings were still in a terrible state of disrepair. Innocent people, made to suffer because of the actions of a careless few. People that didn't care who else got hurt, didn't care about the means and only wanted results. Well then. This destruction was the end result. Would they say it was worth it?

Even the most arrogant Britannian wouldn't claim they could rebuild this much in a night, but the process was continuing even though the one that gave the order was now dead. It seemed to him as though the effort was being made, and it gave Suzaku some hope. Lelouch was wrong about that. Wrong to take the arrow in such a forceful manner, wrong to shoot that Knight. Had he done something even more wrong and shot Clovis as well?

He wandered away in the same direction the green haired girl wandered, pausing to flinch at the memory of whatever she had done to him. It made him think of his father's death, but more than that it left him with the terrible impression that he -

_Did I kill my own father?_

Another pair of mysteries with no leads to follow. He could hardly ask questions without drawing attention to himself, and unless he could somehow find Lelouch, find the green haired girl he could never manage to figure out anything. It would take blind stupid luck for him to satisfy this dreadful curiosity and put his mind at peace.

Something like a crowd of Japanese rapidly fleeing in a particular direction. Suzaku grabbed one by the arm. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Two Knightmare Frames are duking it out," the scared man said. "Oh gods! It's a repeat of yesterday! They're going to use it as an excuse to flatten us again! Will it never end?"

No. It wouldn't end. So long as people kept on fighting for the sake of fighting. So long as nobody within the system tried to do anything about it, nothing would ever change. People would be picked up and chewed out. It was for this reason that Suzaku took a position and an action that stood contrary to common sense. Whereas people were swarming away from a particular place, his reaction was to run towards it in a manner that would put most parkour practitioners to shame. He released the man's arm, and it must have seemed to him like Suzaku had begun to fly. Not so much. Merely leaped with ten percent of his leg strength. He twisted in the air and found an inch worth of footing protruding from a building, which he was certainly capable of using for the half second he needed to alter his trajectory. He seized a lamppost and spun around above the head of the crowd, ran his feet against a nearby wall keeping his body perpendicular to the ground and used the momentum to carry himself the full length of the building in the blink of an eye. From here he landed atop a pile of ruins and leaped once again, bouncing off it like a tightly coiled spring. From here he could see the signs of the battle the people were trying to avoid for fear of their very lives.

Two Sutherlands. One with sluggish movement, the other quite obviously toying with the first. This fight was over long before Suzaku had even heard of it. A gust of wind struck him in the face, and he blinked. The day had not particularly struck him as being so warm. So why did it feel like he was standing in front of a roaring fire.

The answer came with a newspaper that blew into his face. He peeled it off, dignity hurting a little bit, and another gust blew it towards the duelling Knightmares. Whereupon it began to blacken and fray away into tiny little specks of ashes. Like it had caught on fire, when there was no fire to be seen. Suzaku reached into his pocket and extracted his phone, dialling the only contact number on it: The same person that gave it to him in the first place. His eyes didn't leave the battle for a moment. He could almost see the little waves of heat and it made his eyes grow set in determination.

_This person has an ability like Lelouch_.

"It's me," he said as the sluggish Sutherland made a futile effort at retreat. "I'm at the stadium in Shinjuku. Bring the Lancelot."

* * *

God-damn it Rivalz. Why did you have to make this that much more difficult? Challenging enough to approach someone he suspected of rebellion without her in turn suspecting the possibility that he knew who she was. Any conversation they might have would be scrutinised under a microscope. Even a fool in this situation would be particularly wary and judging from her ability to pass exams so effectively while missing more days than she attended, Kallen was pretty far from being a fool. He could no longer even approach her while invisible! Which meant he needed a new angle, and quickly before she decided to conduct her own investigation... A rolled up paper struck him, and Lelouch rose his head to look up into the mildly irritated eyes of one Milly Ashford. There were few things this particular girl seemed to take seriously, and one of them was her position as student council president.

"Another late night, Lulu?" she said. "Or maybe you're starting to find our meetings boring? In which case, I have a few costumes that could certainly liven it up."

"Oh no, not a problem. Just a late night, that's all."

"In which case, let's get back down to business! Rivalz, the agenda if you please?"

"Well, to begin with: We have Clovis' televised memorial service in about an hour, so we should be kind of careful with time."

"Which is time we could have used more wisely if certain people didn't decide to skip yesterday," Shirley said.

"Hey now, the past is the past. Right?" Rivalz shrugged. "No point complaining about something you can't change."

"Though I hardly care for the tardy attitude of two of our members, he has a valid point," Milly said. "We can complain about yesterday, or we can finish our business today!"

Lelouch completely agreed. The sooner they got this business sorted out, the sooner he could concentrate on solving the problem he'd found himself dropped in. Perhaps it might be best if he allowed her to investigate, and gave her a few false leads to follow? Or maybe -

"To begin with, it looks a lot like we're going to have a new council member," Milly said.

"A new council member?" Nina said. "At this point in the year? Who is it?"

Milly wagged her finger and perched upon the edge of the table."The poor dear has been forced to miss so many fun school days due to illness," she said. "Which means she's not getting the opportunity she should to make as many friends, interact with clubs or really make the most of this time of her life. So tragic for such a pretty flower to be so poorly! Therefore! It has been decided! We're going to induct her into the council!

"As of tomorrow, Kallen Stadtfeld will be a student council member!"

This time, he didn't actually fall off his chair. It was a near thing, but he didn't. Lelouch shook his head, finding himself in complete awe. Another coincidence. Another million to one chance. Well then. He had better make the most of it, hadn't he? He had better -

Interesting. How very terribly interesting. Well! If she was going to be so insistent on barging into his life, then it might well be about time to talk with her. Especially since he had an excuse ready made, manifesting out of thin air.

"Waiting for tomorrow might not be necessary," he said. "She's just outside the school gates." Peering rather obviously at the window as if daring him to come out to meet her. And who was he to ignore an invite like that? "I'll go and speak to her. I'm sure you'll be able to get started on the budget without me, right? I'll be right back!"

"But Lulu-" Milly said as he dashed for the door.

"Oh, let him go," Rivalz said. "Pretty sure the guy has it bad for that Stadtfeld girl. He's probably been wanting a chance to talk to her alone for a while now."

For no reason that any member of the council could rationally explain, all the papers on the table suddenly swept right off to the floor. Strange thing too. The windows were closed, and it had happened well after Lelouch had already closed the door…

* * *

So. Lelouch Lamperouge. Vice-president of the student council. A little digging revealed little about him, much less than she would have thought. He had a younger sister that was apparently quite popular. He was considered quite intelligent, but rarely applied that intelligence from a seeming lack of motivation. Or at least that was the impression other people had. The most telling part was another particular rumour regarding his tendency to skip class: That he enjoyed playing chess against the nobility. Which Kallen found interesting because -

Her target stepped out of the front door of the building. Alright. This place was far too public for a confrontation. Kallen turned on her heel and walked out the gate, keeping an eye cast backwards. She could see his shadow on the ground just behind her, walking at a moderate pace.

"Kallen!" he said. "Wait!"

She sped up. Not much. Just a tiny fraction. Pretend that she didn't hear him, so she could formulate a few questions. What did he know about Shinjuku? What had he seen in the truck? Did he know anything about strange abilities? Was he that mystery voice?

It seemed a strange one to consider, that. Was he the voice that led them towards victory yesterday? Once she started considering that possibility a few other pieces did start to fall into place: Those code names. Q1. P1-8. From a certain perspective it made a strange sort of sense. Chess must have been fresh on his mind, had he been returning from a game. Hardly damning evidence, but it did make her more suspicious…

She ducked into an alley, still hearing his footsteps just behind her. Kallen waited. Pressed against the wall. The plan was simple. Her knife was ready. He would probably spill his guts if he knew anything at all, and if not - Well, she'd prefer not to have to spill them for him. Regardless. His footsteps were just around the corner, and -

Kallen seized hold of the arm, and spun him around into the alley, pushing him up against the wall with her knife at his throat. The boy made a frightened noise, begged to be released. Kallen pulled back on his blonde hair, and -

Blonde hair? This wasn't Lelouch at all! This was another Ashford student! She let him go, feeling a little stupid for grabbing the wrong person: Of course! If he were the voice, he might have the ability to make himself invisible! In which case, he might already be here in the alley watching her. But where -

"Sorry about that," the boy said. "Didn't mean to startle you. Kallen Stadtfeld, right?"

"Oh!" she said, suddenly realising she needed to get rid of him as quickly as possible. "Yes, that's right. Sorry, I… Didn't hurt you or anything, did I?"

"Heh. Don't worry about it," the boy said. "Frederick Breedington. Pleasure to meet you. Say, how about we make it up to each other by letting me buy you dinner tonight?"

"Sorry," she said, not feeling remotely sorry at all. "I already have plans."

"Ah, come on babe! I'll be sure to show you a great time! I'll warn you now. A Breedington doesn't know how to take no for an answer. Understand?"

Kallen nodded. "Completely," she said, wondering at who could possibly fail to understand his meaning. Then she took a deep breath and lifted her knee directly into his crotch. The reaction wasn't quite what she was expecting. Most men would have dropped like a rock, but instead he just stood there. Taking it with a growing smile on his face. A masochist, or -

Suddenly, Kallen dropped to her other knee, clutching at the one she'd used to attack. What the hell was that?! It felt like she'd tried to punt a mountain! Tears of pain were wiped from her eyes, and she considered: Had she kicked with all her strength, she'd have broken her leg.

"Half blooded girls like you are such a disgrace," Frederick said, his skin seeming a strangely rough greyish hue. "I think it's time somebody put you back into your place."

But Kallen was no longer looking at him. She saw something else, just to his left. A shadowy figure raising its finger to its lips in a gesture of silence.

* * *

At best, she was minutes away from collapsing. At worst, she had already collapsed and this was all just a fever dream she was having in her final moments of life. In which case her imagination wasn't quite as good as it should be. It all seemed like an awful nightmare, being slowly cooked alive in her very own Sutherland. Damn the luck! Two days in a row she'd been bested and humiliated by someone with an ability!

"You've done well to last this long," her tormentor's voice conceded. "All things being equal, you would have probably beaten me."

She activated her long range comms. This was the best she could do now: Call in. Not for help. Not for herself. A warning, that was all. Warn the others that Code-R was rebelling. They needed to know. Needed to prepare. Needed to be ready -

"What's this?" her enemy said. "Calling for help? Let them come! If you're expecting a white knight to arrive and save you from the flames, you've got another thing coming!"

The enemy Sutherland lifted its hands, and Villetta could see the waves of heat rising from the air in front of it. It was sending another attack. She'd dodged around several of them already on instinct alone, ducking weaving and praying to powers she'd never believed in just to keep ahead for a little while longer until she could find an opening, find a means to counter attack that never ever came. But now? Now her limbs were giving up. She couldn't pull the controls enough to move out of the way. All that she could do was sit there sweating and drawing in her last sucking gasps of air. This was the end for her, and she hadn't even managed to get through to anyone back at base -

A shadow was suddenly cast over her, and something interjected between the two of them. Another Knightmare Frame!

"Are you alright over there?" the new pilot said.

"Warn… Margrave…Code R!" Villetta said. She allowed herself a smile with the last of her strength, and finally collapsed into a merciful rest. Hopefully, that new pilot would be able to take care of the rest.

"Stand down!" the new pilot yelled. "This battle is over! There is no reason to fight like this!"

"What is this? Interference from the advanced Knightmare model?" Breedington said. He threw something at Suzaku he could not see, and he raised his forcefield to protect from it. Even so! The heat was incredible! "What a wonderful trial this shall be! We shall settle this discussion once and for all. What shall be the manner in which battles of the future will be waged? Shall it be Knightmare Frame, or shall it be Stand?"

* * *

**[To Be Continued |\|]**

**Stand Stats**

**Man on Fire**

**User: Colonel Breedington**

**Stats**

Destructive Power A

Speed B

Range C

Durability C

Precision B

Developmental Potential E

**Abilities**

**Manifest Flame**: User can create fire invisible to non-stand users, and spread it anywhere they like. Once it is set in place the fire will burn until it can no longer do so, or is put out by e.g. water or smothering.

**Heatproof**: User cannot feel effects of their own flame.

**Rock You**

**User: Frederick Breedington**

**Stats**

Destructive Power B

Speed D

Range D

Durability A

Precision C

Developmental Potential C

**Abilities**

**Flesh of Stone**: User can turn their body to stone with no ill effects. Parts of the body may be turned to stone as well, with the only ill effect being the additional weight gained by that section of the body.

**Medusa Touch**: User can turn any object they are in contact with to stone, for the duration of the time they are in contact with the object. There are no ill effects regarding the transformation, unless the object is damaged while transformed. Mechanical devices will not function while turned to stone, unless a key component is made of a similar material.


	6. A Breath of Fresh Air

Disclaimer: Code Geass belongs to Sunrise. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure is property of Hirohiko Araki.

* * *

**Lulu's Bizarre Adventure 6: Breath of Fresh Air**

It was the worst day of his life, but one would not see it to look upon his face. Did he seem happy? Hardly. It was simply that there was no trace of emotion upon his face, no trace of sadness or regret or anger. It might as well have been any other day, to look at him from the outside.

But from the inside? As he stepped outside the cemetery in the pouring rain, there was a single thing keeping him grounded within this world. A single, bright hope for tomorrow that he alone could contend with: The boy with tears in his eyes that was their son.

Her death - The accident - had been two days previous. Just another day in the laboratory. They both worked for a freshly established group called Code R, with her taking on the Knightmare division. Project: Sutherland was apparently progressing at a reasonable pace. Just another day like any other. She would have been running tests when the terrorists struck. An explosion which sparked a fire, which she could have fled from easily but she had stayed behind to rescue her superior. Died within the line of fire in a backdraft when some fool opened a window.

Breedington was not the kind of man that showed his emotions, but if anyone were to ask he would readily admit: He loved that woman. Beautiful. Brilliant. Ambitious. Driven. Qualities to admire. She had no patience for those that failed to apply themselves, and never once allowed herself to slow down or stop. She had been surprised when he had proposed, and immediately accepted. He had no illusions. It was, for her, a marriage of status. She had seen the writing on the wall, knew what was coming in his future… And wanted to ensure that she was well placed to take advantage. He always knew that, and was the kind of man that respected it. He liked to think she enjoyed his company beyond that raise in status. Now, he would never know for certain.

"Stupid Elevens!" his son said, trembling with rage. "Do they even know what they did? Do they even care?"

"No son," he replied. "The people that did this would not care. But please, take better care to control your emotions, lest you embarrass yourself in public. One must not make a -"

The streets in this part of the city were littered with Elevens attempting to sell whatever they could manage. Food, clothing, typically homemade. Breedington had no taste for these, and the only reason he was walking today was that he didn't particularly care to sit within a vehicle when a walk would suffice. So. When a clumsy Eleven shopkeeper turned around, and spilled some form of fruit juice all over his tuxedo… Well then.

"Oh! Oh gosh!" the suddenly terrified Eleven said. The rain made it seem as though tears were coming out of her eyes. "Please sir, I beg forgiveness! I'll clean it personally! I'll do anything you ask to make up for my clumsiness! Please sir, forgive me!"

Breedington took his eyes from the stain and looked at this young woman with no sign of hatred or malice in his eyes. Instead, he gently patted her on the head. "You are forgiven," he said. Her entire body relaxed in relief. He dabbed at the stain with a finger, and licked it. "You know, I don't usually have a taste for homemade food and drink, but this is rather fascinating. You make it yourself?" She nodded. "And, of course, you rather like it?" Another nod.

"Then let us see how much you can drink."

With no indication of malice or rage in his face, voice or body language Breedington pushed her up against the stall with one arm, pinning her face up. The other arm reached for a pitcher full of juice. "Open wide, please," he said in an almost nonchalant manner as he poured it all over her terrified face. "What's the matter? I thought you said you liked it."

And as the woman sputtered and tried desperately to inhale just another breath of fresh air, his son Frederick laughed for the first time since his mother's death. It was the most wonderful sound he'd heard all week.

* * *

The arrogant bastard was walking around her with hands in his pockets as she rubbed out the pain in her knee. The more she looked at the situation, the less it looked like he had used some form of protection. That wasn't a cup or anything jammed in his underwear. This was like with Takako yesterday, like the person watching in the shadows: This was a special ability. No question of it.

"Is the little half breed's knee still hurting?" Frederick said. "Such a shame! After all, you're so sick all the time. It's not really a surprise though, if you think about it. Your loyal, patriotic Britannian cells are clearly rejecting your filthy, wasteful Eleven cells. No wonder you're so sick. Your very existence is an illness.

"But not nearly sick enough for my tastes. Why don't we correct that?"

He grabbed her hair, and she saw a chance. Rising to her feet quickly was the first step. As for the second she seized him by the collar. For the third, she planted one foot firmly in front of one of his legs. For the last she yanked forward, pulling him over into a throw that should send him reeling to the ground.

Should have. Didn't. He didn't even budge. Instead the grating sound of arrogant laughter filled her ears, but he made no offensive move against

her. How heavy was he?! Fine then! She wheeled around and twisted his arm behind his back, shocked at how cold and hard it was.

"My, my!" the little turd said. "So the sick girl has a bit more bite to her than she lets on? That makes this all the more entertaining."

It was the strangest thing, but she could swear she saw words form in the shadow in front of her. Like a segment of the wall had been made completely invisible, leaving deep indentations forming into words: "GET OUT OF THERE!" they read. "HE'LL CRUSH YOU!"

Frederick leaned forward, and Kallen suddenly knew what he meant by that. His body was a rock, the wall was a hard place and he intended to ensure she was stuck within it! When he threw his full and considerable weight backwards, Kallen barely had the opportunity to push herself off his shoulder, somersaulting over his body as he crashed into the wall. It sounded like the wall gave just a little under his weight.

"A knee to the crotch. An overarm throw. An arm wrench." Frederick said. "Three attacks from you, and a wall crush attempt by me. I think two more attacks are in order, don't you?"

He swung his leg up in a lazy arc. Easy for Kallen to avoid, and she did so rolling around it. Against an ordinary opponent this would create an attack of opportunity, but she was beginning to see that he had no vulnerable spots to strike. No weakness. Nowhere he could be hit which didn't hurt her more than it did him. For the time being Kallen had no other choice but to -

"WATCH OUT!" the wall read.

Something hit her. Something hit her like a hammer to the face, sending her spinning in the air until she landed on the ground. Landed hard. What? What was that? Where did that come from? His back was still turned to her, but he was looking over his shoulder with a triumphant smirk.

"DIDN'T YOU SEE THAT?" the wall read. "IT'S STILL THERE IN FRONT OF YOU."

Kallen wiped the blood away from her mouth. See what? See him? Why wouldn't he do something to help? What the hell hit her just now, and would it hit her again? What was going -

"_Three Spades hover without a sound, as they bury you in the ground!"_

"_Why, you're the spitting image of the Jack of Diamonds and the Queen of Clubs! Come play with mommy, dears!"_

Could that be it? The common factor between these strange powers… A manifestation. A physical manifestation only those with the power could see! That might explain why mister shadow could see it, but she could not. It did not explain why he wasn't helping.

"So you see, it's completely pointless trying to fight me," Frederick said, sticking his hands back in his pockets. "In every manner that matters, I am number one. I possess a power that sets me up above even the purest blooded Britannians, and certainly far above a wretch like you! You are a stain upon our great nation! A mongrel! By your very existence, you diminish the Holy Empire's greatness!"

He ran a hand through his hair, which seemed to flow naturally like normal strands of human hair before settling back into a stoney petrified state. Frederick's laugh was like listening to gravel being raked across the ground.

"Imagine my surprise after breaking into the school records," Frederick said. "I suspected there would be at least one trying to take advantage of the system. Like a virus. First you infiltrate, then you breed, then you destroy the cell and infect others. Well then! Rock You and I shall be your antivirus! We shall be your -"

A shoe struck him in the back of the head, and Kallen was every bit as shocked as Frederick.

"Who? Who interferes?!" he yelled, wheeling around in the alley and apparently seeing absolutely nobody. But Kallen could see. The shadowy figure was beckoning to her, and more words appeared on the wall.

"STAND IN THE SHADOWS. I WILL MAKE YOU INVISIBLE. TRUST ME AGAIN, Q1. YOU SHALL WIN."

Kallen didn't even hesitate. Once again she had found herself backed up against the wall with nowhere else to turn but a mysterious unknown benefactor. What choice did she have but to hope and to pray that he truly could bring her the victory he promised?

None at all. The part she didn't care for was that mister shadow obviously knew it as well as she did.

* * *

Three metal titans stood within a ruined stadium. One, gleaming white while the other two were a distinguished purple. The white titan stood in front of a purple titan in a defensive stance, protecting it for it could no longer move.

"This is not necessary," Suzaku Kururugi said. "Why are you fighting among yourselves? Stand down! Surely we can discuss this! There is no need for this!"

"You really are quite the hero, aren't you?" Breedington said. "Fighting for the sake of someone that doesn't care about you? How downright heroic."

"I fight for justice!"

"Justice?" Breedington replied in a cool sarcastic manner. "Do you know what the Purebloods are planning? They intend to frame you for the murder of Prince Clovis! Yes, that's right! The very woman you protect is involved in a conspiracy to see you executed, when we all know that you were piloting that white knight in the name of Britannia! Still feel like protecting her in the name of justice?"

"Do you have evidence for this conspiracy?" Suzaku asked. "If so… If so, then you should reveal it to the public! Let them know the truth! Use the system to effect change! That way-"

"Will surely fail, you naive fool," Bartley said. "Who do you think our beloved Margrave is meeting with at this very moment? Hm? Fellow named Diethard. I wouldn't expect your sort to know who he is, but I can assure you: This meeting means that the media is in the Pureblood's back pockets. Any evidence we provided would be squashed long before the public heard of it! Stand aside, Kururugi and let her face the only possible justice she can face!"

"Justice doesn't mean cold blooded murder!" Suzaku yelled. "What gives you the right to kill her?"

Breedington was quiet for a moment, and Suzaku believed he might have been ready to stand down. He hoped that was the case for he did not wish to fight this man. Not when there were other means of resolving the situation open to them, not when there was still hope for a peaceful reconciliation!

"Power," he finally said. "Power gives me the right. That is the way that Britannia works. Those with power ascend on the backs of those without. Even you must understand this. Would you be where you are now if you had not worked to become better than a typical honorary? You are better than the others, and therefore you are given better opportunities. It is that simple."

"No, it's not like that -" Suzaku yelled, wiping sweat from his brow. Sweat? Hold on… The temperature was through the roof in here! There was only one reason it should be so hot, and that was because Breedington was using his power of invisible fire.

Suddenly, he was forced to re-evaluate the conversation in a new light. Under normal circumstances Breedington could use his power to burn a person to death, but within a Knightmare Frame they were protected by several layers of metal. With that in mind he had to take a different course of action. Spread fire throughout the area. The confined metal space that comprised the cockpit would rapidly rise in temperature, regardless of ventilation. The pilot would begin to sweat profusely, breathe more heavily and eventually pass out from the heat.

Leaving them ripe and easy pickings for any manner of attack Breedington elected to use.

The entire conversation had been a ruse, then. He was taking advantage of Suzaku's desire to avoid having to fight to ensure he won the fight without a blow being exchanged. He was leading him on in a heated debate, waiting for Suzaku to pass out so he didn't have to test his Sutherland against the brand new Lancelot. A person willing to use that kind of strategy… They were already far past the point of negotiation!

So Suzaku did the only reasonable thing he could under the circumstance. He launched the first attack. What choice had he? Breedington wasn't really listening to him for anything, would not be swayed by words and each passing moment afforded him the opportunity of a tiny assault upon Suzaku's stamina.

"I won't let you burn down whatever you please!" he yelled, dashing towards the enemy Sutherland at full speed. Which, for Lancelot, was _hella fast._

To begin with he would cut down his enemy's ability to fight, and then work to capture him alive! He would use Slash Harkens to bind the Sutherland's motion, forcing the man to surrender when he could no longer do anything else. From there, he would just have to do what he could to take him alive.

The Lancelot slid across the ground towards him in the blink of an eye, and fired a Slash Harken towards the legs, and only then did Breedington's reaction time begin to kick in. This fight was already over, and -

And something deflected the Slash Harken inches away from contact with the Sutherland. _What_? But he didn't have time to dwell on it, because now Breedington was launching a counterattack which Suzaku was easily able to avoid, placing him in position just behind the enemy Sutherland, where he sent his fist in for a low strike that was also blocked by an invisible force. Undeterred, Suzaku tried again, this time intending to grab hold of the Sutherland's punch so that he could pull him into a grapple - But this too was blocked by something invisible, and the fist flew by his arm while something held it away, as if holding it in place. As if a wall of some sort had been erected right there at that very moment.

_What is going on?_

The Lancelot slid back away from the enemy Sutherland undamaged for everything except for the pride of Suzaku (and Lloyd). _What had just happened_?

He knew the enemy had power over invisible fire, but whatever he had struck had felt solid. To solid to be fire, but for some reason he simply could not see it! Unless, of course - Suzaku felt like slapping himself for not thinking of it earlier. He could feel the heat. He could actually _feel_ it, which had to mean that it would show up on -

"Tell me Kururugi," Breedington said. "Can you feel the fire? Can you feel the heat? Soon enough, your cry for justice will burn to ashes!"

For no apparent reason that any outside could understand, Suzaku suddenly activated his Lancelot's Blaze Luminous, and spun around towards something completely invisible.

"What?" Breedington sputtered, his cool aura breaking for the first time. "But - But how could you see -"

Suzaku allowed himself a brief smile at a small victory. "Those that misuse their power will wind up consumed by it!" he declared. "And your Man on Fire is absolutely no different!"

* * *

"And in second place, Frederick Breedington!"

The words might as well have been a knife in his back. Second place. Unacceptable! He was a Breedington! A proud full blooded Britannian elite! To come so close, so treacherously close to the top and to stumble at the last moment… Unthinkable!

He left the event with the silver medal in his hand and stared at his own reflection within it. He was the product of a long and proud line. His father hadn't said a word about it, but he knew that his old man must be burning from the inside. It was like an insult to him, having a failure for a son. His own flesh. His own blood. Stumbling at the last hurdle, failing to rise to the occasion, failing to dredge up every last ounce of his own skill!

Which was in some ways worse than not having enough skill to succeed in the first place. Complacency meant laziness. It meant failing to bring out your own potential. It meant that you were directly responsible for your own failure, nobody else, nothing else.

Frederick looked up at the clear blue sky. A bird flew overhead. Majestic. Proud. On a straight course towards its destination, guided by currents of air.

He picked a rock up from the ground, and threw it at the bird. It struck the bird in the wing, causing it to fall to the ground. At which point he ran forward, yelling "I hope you fucking choke on my foot!" or something equally full of rage, he couldn't recall after the fact. What he did remember was the satisfying sound it made when his running shoes connected with the stupid creature's skull, killing it almost instantly. Frederick took several deep, deep breaths and stared at the corpse. He wished he hadn't killed it so quickly so that he could dole out a little bit more pain, just a little bit more to ease the pressure on his heart.

A large hand fell upon his shoulder, and Frederick turned around into the cold, cool face of his father. The next thing he knew, he was on his knees clutching his nose.

"A shameless display of pointless rage," his father said, cool and almost devoid of all emotion. "Control yourself better in future. Accept loss with dignity, and it will soon be forgotten that you ever lost at all. Lose without dignity, and it will be all anyone will ever remember."

* * *

"Oh? Hide and seek is it?" Frederick asked, scouring the area for any sign of her. His eyeline traced the alley and their eyes met. Had he seen her? Was she really invisible? Could she put her trust into a person whose name she did not know, a face she had not seen? The moment passed and he continued scanning the alley. "Come out, come out wherever you are. A half blooded bitch like you can't hope to outwit someone like me!"

Kallen carefully turned her attention towards the shadow standing opposite her. She was tempted to reach out and touch it, but there was a single stray light area in between the two of them. If she reached out now, stepped out of the shadow in any way would Frederick see her? The shadow turned its head and lifted its finger to its lips in a motion of silence. Okay. So they were invisible, but he would still be able to hear them. Good to know.

The figure lifted its hands and made a series of repeating exaggerated motions that caused Kallen a moment of epiphany. Sign language. Of course. "Understand?" he was asking. Kallen nodded. Of course she understood sign language. Quite often silent infiltration was a necessity when engaging in sabotage, which meant alternative avenues of communication were a must. "Good. Makes this easier."

"Who are you?" she signed.

"A friend," came the reply. "He and I wield a power called Stand. Can you see his? It looks like a man carved from rocks, with pebbles for eyes and teeth. It floats behind him."

Kallen looked at him and saw nothing of the sort. She shook her head, very slowly. Frederick appeared to be getting quite angry, pounding the side of the wall hard enough to leave a dent.

"Interesting," the figure signed. "Only a Stand user can perceive the Stands of others."

Which fit perfectly well with what Kallen had figured out already, but that statement said something else as well. Whoever mister invisible was, he was new to this. He couldn't have had this power for very long, or at the very least hadn't encountered many others with this Stand power. Something like that would become obvious to someone so intelligent quite quickly. Perhaps yesterday, and he hadn't thought anything of how people couldn't see his own because its powers were invisibility based, and all he'd have to do is keep it hovering in his own shadow.

So the voice had tracked her down. Wonderful. This didn't exactly help them in dealing with their immediate problem. A psychopathic Britannian with a dangerous ability to turn himself to stone. Under normal circumstances she would be able to use her concealed knife combined with this invisibility to deal with the problem quickly, if a bit messily. But given the reaction his body had so far… There wasn't a chance her knife would be able to pierce something like that. She needed something bigger, heavier. A sledgehammer or something like that.

But then again why deal with him here and now anyway? Now that she knew what his ability was and who he was, all she had to do was be ready for him. Find the right tools, prepare an ambush of her own before he was able to get to her. Maybe she could persuade the mystery voice to help her out, and even if not…

"Nowhere to be seen," Frederick said. He was fuming. "That's not possible! There's nowhere she could go so quickly! Unless… Unless she had help. Whoever threw that shoe - Ah? The shoe is gone as well?"

Frederick walked back into the alley, hands in pockets with a swagger to his step, until he stopped and spun around in place kicking the ground beneath his feet. "That clinches it, then. Another Stand user helped her escape. How interesting. I'm sure father would love to hear about this! Hrm! Let's see! Oh, father, you wouldn't believe what I saw Kallen Stadtfeld do at school today. Why, it was like she vanished into thin air! Haha, yes! Make it sound like she has an ability as well! Code R will make the bitch talk! Not quite as satisfying as beating her up myself, but a Breedington wins any way they can!"

D-Damn! It didn't seem possible, but the situation just got a little bit worse! Now she couldn't risk letting him leave! If he contacted his father - The last thing she needed was special attention from any government body, especially one that might find these special abilities so interesting! She could hold up to the torture… But what if they didn't need to? What if they had special abilities of their own that would make her spill her guts? The imagination reeled! With what she had seen these last two days Kallen would be willing to believe anything was possible! This had to end, and it had to end now!

"Calm yourself," the shadow signed. "I have a plan," he said. "There is a universally common weak point among all humans. I intend that we exploit it. Ruthlessly."

A universal weak point? What could he possibly mean by that? It could be just about anything, but right now - Right now Kallen would take any weakness she could find!

* * *

Colonel Breedington did not seethe in frustration, because that was completely unbecoming behaviour for someone of his importance and influence. Maintain a cool and collected aura at all times, and those around you will come to understand that you are in control over yourself, over the situation and there is nothing they can do about it.

Looking back over the battle so far made a few facts crucially apparent. Kururugi could not see Man on Fire because he did not have a Stand. Only a Stand user would be able to see Man on Fire or the fire he could create. Were Kururugi a Stand user he would have reacted very differently throughout the fight, would have attacked much sooner and would have employed a completely different attack strategy.

So. What had changed? Breedington bought himself a little time by sending Man on Fire over towards the other Sutherland, which the Lancelot dutifully leaped in front of to take the blow instead. Such a dutiful soldier. It only bought him a little time, however: The Lancelot fired two Slash Harkens directly towards him, forcing Breedington to retaliate with his own, with the speedy assistance of Man on Fire. That's right Kururugi, do you see the power this Stand has? Speed and destructive ability in spades! It's far too fast, even for the Lancelot!

Except that Lancelot wasn't remotely done: It rushed inwards, far faster than a machine that size should be able to accomplish and swung in with a fist once again! "Futile gesture," he said, easily blocking that arm with Man on Fire.

And then he felt himself being struck by something. The Lancelot's other hand! It had lashed out at the same time the other hand was swinging its all cutting blade! Two attacks from different directions at the same time, both maintaining a high level of force!

"Give up," Suzaku demanded. "Your Man on Fire can only protect from one direction at a time! And now that I can see him, you won't be able to launch any surprise attacks against me!"

"Is that so?" Breedington said, absolutely not thumping his controls in frustration. "Then come at me again and put that theory to the test."

The attack came with some trace of resignation to it. The fool truly did not wish to fight, but it was astounding! For him to remain in the fight for so long, was it a testament to man or machine? Perhaps both at once. Either way, it was moving in far too fast with both attacks coming in from different angles. Breedington couldn't react fast enough to block both of them, which was the entire idea behind this kind of assault.

So. With that in mind, instead he had Man on Fire stay in the middle of both attacks and begin to launch a technique he had only expected to need against another Stand user.

"From the Depths of Hell!"

Man on Fire spread its arms above its head, creating a starlike shape with its body. Its body, usually a mixture of reds and yellows and oranges and everything in between suddenly and briefly turned a brilliant white and flames shot out in all directions all at once in a tremendous explosion that sent Lancelot reeling. The downside, of course, being that now Man on Fire would need some time to recharge its flames before continuing to fight. Which meant he had to stall.

"Infra red," Breedington said, aiming towards the other Sutherland with more conventional firearms. Once again, Suzaku responded as predicted diving right in front of her to block the sustained fire. "That's it, right Kururugi? You can see the heat signature my Stand gives off!" he said, willing Man on Fire to linger in the brightest hottest spot in the area. "Well then! Let's see you find him now!" he said, continuing to fire upon the Lancelot until his clip was empty. "No counter attack? No cries about justice or honour? Are you starting to understand that you've been beaten? You cannot protect her and yourself!"

"Hiding your Stand within the fire won't beat me!" Suzaku said. "This fight is pointless! All you're going to do is burn the city to the ground!"

"What an interesting idea," Breedington said, eager to stall for time. "Give me a good reason that I shouldn't burn this city down if you don't surrender, would you?"

"Because Clovis ordered that it be rebuilt," Suzaku said. "Do you want to disobey his last order?"

No. And that was the damning thing. He was completely correct about at least that much. He had almost fully recovered with Man on Fire… Bathe in the flames! Regrow your strength! Together they would show Suzaku Kururugi how powerful and unbeatable Stand could make a person!

"Stop this madness, or I will be forced to stop you instead! If Man on Fire can only move within the flames undetected, then obviously I will need to stay away from the hottest areas!"

"Is that so?" Breedington said. "Then let's see what you do now!"

Man on Fire rose from the flames like the proverbial phoenix from the ashes, levitating in the air, before beginning to spin around. How confusing it must be, Kururugi! You can avoid the hottest areas? Is that so! Then let us see how you behave when the entire stadium is one giant hotspot! No safe places to hide! Nothing but the flames surrounding the area, rendering your infra red completely worthless!

"This… This is madness! This reckless use of power -"

"Reckless?" Breedington scoffed. "What is reckless about it? Now you cannot see where Man on Fire will approach from. Now, you will be unable to defend yourself from its inevitable attack! It's my victory, Kururugi!"

"No," he said. But not in any way that indicated defeat. Quite the opposite really. Almost as if he'd just seen something. "You've given yourself away now. Don't you see it?" The Lancelot grabbed the other Sutherland, and the two of them slid backwards, away from Breedington. Retreating? "The flames you have cast exist in a perfect circle, with the edge about 20 meters away from you. In close range, you can keep yourself safe with Man on Fire and attack with impunity from anywhere. But outside of 20 meters, its power can't reach. Am I wrong?"

Breedington gripped his controls. Yes. Yes, he could see it. Any flame that Man on Fire tried to cast more than about twenty meters away died on the spot! That little worm! The Lancelot began to trace around the circle, taking pot shots towards Breedington with his rifle: The bullets were easily incinerated by Man on Fire.

"From back here, I can keep myself cool and attack without a chance of retaliation!" Suzaku said. "It won't take me long to find a hole in your defenses, and then this fight will end! Do you see it? You've set yourself up to lose! What will your peers say? They will say you have been beaten by a lowly Honorary Britannian! Can you feel that heat, Breedington? Can you feel the fires of justice closing in? Those who live by power alone will die by it!"

A lowly Honorary Britannian. It was delivered as a taunt, and he recognised it as such. Still. It burned at him. A lowly Honorary Britannian. It was a wound, an ancient wound. Kururugi had intended to assault his pride and his position, but instead he had struck upon something else. Something far deeper inside than mere pride could ever reach. Something that broke through that calm demeanour and unleashed a beast that could no longer be contained.

"Kururugi," Breedington said. "Do you have any idea what you threaten to unleash? I have been holding back, toying with you until now!" His Sutherland spun towards the direction the latest attack had come from, but by that time he was already somewhere else. "You coward! You naive fool! Do you really think you can get the best of me in this way?!"

There! He moved just a little bit, just enough to get Kururugi within striking distance and blasted him with a full blast of flame! It was blocked, but that wasn't the point! He sent the Sutherland at full speed directly towards Lancelot, a move that for anyone else would have quickly resulted in defeat. For him it was no longer satisfactory to attack from one means alone! And so! He unleashed a hailfire of bullet, while Man on Fire hurled jets of searing flame. Lancelot danced around them, occasionally lashing out with knees and fists and elbows and legs. All blocked by Man on Fire, nothing getting through! Futile futile futile!

Until out of the blue, Lancelot fired a Slash Harken in the other direction and pulled himself off down the street, away from the battle, away from the rightful revenge owed to him! Without hesitation or question, Breedington followed suit hurling fire and vitriol in equal measure.

"By the time I'm done with you," he yelled. "Nothing will be left! Nothing but your ashes!"

* * *

A young man sits within his room, furious at his father but unaware of how to handle it. This scene has played out the world over, generation upon generation. He has tried various means of expressing himself. He has exercised. He has written his feelings within a journal. He has found girls attracted to his looks and wealth. Nothing could take it, this terrible weight on his mind.

So he sat in his room staring at his hands, wondering what to do with them. These hands. These terrible hands. This frustration. This fury. He could not bring himself to lay a hand upon his father, in spite of his crime. He ached for the chance to take it out on something else. An animal, perhaps? No. Something lower. A Number would suffice… But how should he go about it? If he made the attempt to enter a ghetto by himself, he would be outnumbered. Fury and position would not be enough to keep him alive in such a situation, but then again he almost welcomed death at this point. After making that discovery! The shame would haunt him forever unless he could find an outlet. But what? But what could it possibly -

He took a lungful of air and reached for his pen. Perhaps writing in his journal, perhaps expressing his thoughts, perhaps this time would reveal -

The hand holding the pen dropped as the writing implement suddenly became much heavier than anticipated, quite without warning. Frederick applied a little further strength and lifted it to eye level, staring at it in disbelief.

"What in the world…?" he asked nobody in particular. The pen had become a strange grey colour, cold and rough in a manner that metal wasn't. It was more like stone! Without warning a humanoid figure flitted into his line of sight, just over his shoulder. This startled him. The pen clattered to the floor, and when Frederick looked upon it it was just an ordinary pen once more.

His attention returned to the strange floating figure. It looked like a floating mountain with arms, legs and a head. Frederick backed away in fear, and the strange thing followed him.

"What?" he asked, reaching for something to use to defend himself with and finding only a pillow. "What do you want from me?!" he yelled, and stopped to stare in disbelief. His pillow had turned to stone in his hand as well! He lifted it. Normal again. The figure approached no closer, instead peering at him as if like a curious animal. Like a loyal dog awaiting commands. The fear gradually left him and he straightened himself out.

"Pick up the pen," he instructed. The mountain creature did so. "Give it to me," he said and once again the instructions were followed. Without question. Without hesitation. Frederick looked at the pen, a stone item once again in his hand. He expressed his will. Normal once more.

What was this? This… strange power!

He left his room and the creature followed. Floating behind him. The servants did not react in the slightest to its presence, as if they could not even see it. How strange. He stopped one in the hallway, or perhaps more accurately willed his new servant to do so. The regular kind seemed rather terrified all of a sudden.

"Is father home today?" he asked, knowing that father had been rather preoccupied with work of late. Some major breakthrough no doubt. Much as he loathed to do so, he could think of nobody else that could tell him anything about this strange new ability.

"Y-Yes sir! He - He is in the lounge," said the confused, terrified little man. The spirit released him, and with a curt nod Frederick moved down towards the lounge.

There he found the door open and his father seated in a chair with his back to the door. A strange place to sit for a man of such importance, as it placed great risk that an assassin might sneak in to kill him. Yet Frederick saw at an instant that his father would be in no danger from any would be assassin. Because he was not alone in that room.

There was another. A floating servant standing by him dutifully. Where his own seemed like it was made of stone, this one burned from head to toe. Its features, its gender, all were concealed by flames that rolled around themselves, consuming one another in a never ending internal spiral. As though it were made from the sun itself. In an instant Frederick knew, he understood that this power had been "inherited" in some manner. His father's research had given him a man on fire, then somehow it had been passed on from father to son.

And so he slowly backed away leaving whatever questions he might have unanswered. He would find them out for himself. Besides which. If his father could keep secrets, then why couldn't he?

* * *

Frederick Breedington was not an idiot. Not by any stretch of the imagination. When he raced, he had an excellent instinct for those around him. An awareness not of position, but of presence. He could tell when the other racers were close enough to pass him without turning back to look, without seeing their shadow, without even hearing them. And he knew for a certainty that in spite of what his eyes were telling him he was not by the slightest fraction alone in that alley.

What he had said in the alley was not a bluff. It was a statement of intent, an ultimatum: Show yourself! Or I shall permit the authorities to peek into your brain. Go ahead and let your accusations fly freely towards him. His father was sometimes a cruel and cold man, but even he would not carelessly toss his own son into the workings of science! Not without further evidence, at the very least. Besides which, even if he did insist on experimentation he would simply volunteer his services unto Britannia. A mongrel bitch like Kallen Stadtfeld would be chewed up, while he would stand tall and proud.

How had she done it, then? What was the trick she or her friend had used? Camouflage of some sort? Invisibility? A pocket dimension? No matter. He kept up his skin of stone, because whatever they were capable of almost certainly couldn't hurt him while that was up. Otherwise they would have done so already. To an invisible enemy, a pair of them no less? Even he wasn't arrogant enough to think he could defeat them both. At least, under normal circumstances.

So he'd learned that much. Maintain his rock skin and they could not hope to hurt him. But he could certainly hurt them. Especially once they revealed how their ability to hide worked. Especially since they thought they knew what he could do, when in truth they had absolutely no idea.

A can struck him on the side of the head. Frederick's reaction was immediate to the point of nearly instinctual. He turned in the direction from where the can had come, and Rock You stared in the opposite direction. He would not easily fall for the same trick twice, nor would he fall for the follow up trick that explicitly relied upon not falling for the first. Nothing but an empty street. Still hiding? Can't hide forever. A mongrel leaves a terrible scent.

He picked up the can, ever wary of his surroundings and spied a trashcan nearby within the shade of a building. Frederick shrugged. "Can't have these beautiful streets sullied by litterbugs," he said to nobody in particular. He deposited the can - Then immediately felt something enclose around his foot.

"Got you," a voice whispered from a nearby shadow. Frederick's eyes narrowed. A rope? Around his ankles, binding them together! The other end trailed off into the mongrel's hands and she stood there with a triumphant smirk, tugging hard upon the rope, hard enough to send him off balance and topple towards the ground. "Let's see how tough you are when you're hogtied!" she said, brandishing the other end of the rope. She dashed forward and Frederick sent out Rock You. Strange thing was, the girl's eyes didn't seem focused on him at all. She seemed to be staring at something else.

Somehow she managed to dodge around Rock You's attack, flowing out of the way of the punch as though she saw where it was coming from. That obstacle dodged, she threw the other end of the rope directly towards his neck! At this range it couldn't hope to miss!

Unless he did _this_.

The other end of the rope clattered noisily to the ground quite far away from his head. "Not bad," Frederick said. "I'll give you a few points for that! Eleven should do, don't you think?"

The shock on her face was quite priceless. Frederick turned a portion of the rope around his ankles back to normal, and picked up a feather from the ground. He turned it to stone and sliced clean through. "What's the matter? You seem surprised!" he chuckled, pulling himself back to his feet. "In fact… You look like you could be knocked down with a feather!"

He lunged forward, wielding the feather like a knife. Once again she managed to dodge around the attack, once again a futile attempt. She was fighting the inevitable at this point. She couldn't stop him. Couldn't hurt him. She had no weapons. No plan. Nothing at all. But for him? Everything was a weapon!

"What now, then? Gonna run and hide? Gonna be the coward? Gonna listen to those Eleven genes?" he yelled. "Just like a mongrel bitch! Run at the first sign of danger!"

"I'd rather be a mongrel bitch than have a head full of rocks!"

Right. So that was how she wanted to play it? So be it! He was done playing nice. He was done toying with her. Time to cure the sickness that was her existence, once and for all! Because even though Frederick wasn't a stupid person, like most people he could become quite thoroughly dumb when his anger was allowed to bubble over to the surface. Which is why he gave chase without questioning for a moment why she didn't duck away and hide once again.

* * *

Sometimes it seemed as though a plan worked far too well. Breedington was following him through the streets, and he was moving as quickly as possible to ensure the fire he was throwing around died out almost as quickly as it landed. He was being even more reckless with it than Suzaku had imagined! But still. He had to find a suitable place to end this, and he had to find it quickly. He couldn't keep luring him away forever -

"Hello in there, how is our Devicer feeling today?"

Suzaku looked towards his communicator. "Never mind me," he said. "Were you able to get her out of there alright?"

"Who, Miss Nu?" Lloyd asked. "It's a funny thing, rescuing her again. Twice in as many days. My goodness, if I didn't know any better I'd swear you were interested in her."

"So she's safe?"

"Perfectly! A little heat exhaustion, but she should recover adequately. But, I must admit to some curiosity about this strange ability you're fighting against."

"I'll be sure to give you a full report once I get out of this." And if he was lucky, he might even be able to arrange an interview with Breedington afterwards. Then again, restraining someone like this seemed beyond imagination. He could create fire at will! Containing him at all in any safe way would be difficult enough, but if he was as insane and determined as he appeared there was a good chance he might well kill himself if he really was cornered…

"Kururugi!" Breedington yelled. "You can't run forever! You want to play the hero, then you have to face the fire!"

"... Have Cecile send out the fire brigade with thermal detection equipment," he advised. "Just in case I can't create enough distance between us."

"Well now, I'm sure that won't be all that necessary, but the arrangements will be made," Lloyd said. "Makes one wonder just what those people were up to, doesn't it?"

Code R. That was the name Villetta had said just before passing out. That was the name of this group that Breedington was in charge of. "Who the hell are Code R anyway?" he yelled. "What are they and what do they… Want?"

They had arrived in a warehouse district. Old buildings full of god only knows what. They were away from the populated area, and into a place where next to nobody would be hurt. The perfect place for them to stand and fight.

"Who is Code R, was that?" Breedington said. "Hmph. That Knight talked a little too much for my tastes."

Without having to worry about Villetta in her Sutherland, or civilians wandering into the battle area, Suzaku could fight back without restriction. His own safety mattered very little to him. For now, he just had to stop this monster from hurting anyone else. To that end! He fired a Slash Harken to a point behind Breedington and used it to propel him onwards into a high speed tackle! As expected, Man on Fire was able to block the attack by firing an intense blast of flame into him, but that was expected: Suzaku simply twisted his grip on his Harken, and it freed itself from the ground, and with a deft flick of the wrist he had successfully wrapped the cable around the Sutherland's legs.

It fell over onto its back, and Suzaku fire the rest of the Harkens at point blank range. Alas, he covered his eyes when the infrared viewport lit up like a supernova, and all three Harkens were sent into a tangle with one another.

"If you simply insist on knowing," Breedington said between taking shots at Lancelot. "Code R is a research team specifically devoted towards the study of supposedly supernatural or superhuman abilities!" He pulled hard upon the cable around his foot, forcing Suzaku to split his attention between an easily winnable tug of war and the floating flaming man trying to roast him alive. "We discovered that when a person has a certain item used on them, they either die or - if they have a strong enough will - develop an ability we call Stand! Out of the hundred volunteers we had, only five members of Code R were able to survive and develop Stand!"

"Why are you telling me this now? If it's supposed to be secret - "

"I'm telling you, because I'm offering you a chance!" Breedington said as he pulled the Sutherland's feet free from the cable. "You clearly have a strong enough will to maintain a Stand. Join us, Suzaku Kururugi! We shall discover the truth behind Clovis' death! And then, We shall ensure that justice prevails! Not only in Area Eleven but throughout the world!"

"Never!"

"I thought you wanted justice!"

"Whatever your end goal may be, I cannot agree with these means!" Suzaku yelled, launching the Lancelot into a flurry assault upon the Sutherland which was time and again met with resistance, met with Man on Fire blocking with body or with flame. "Real change won't come to this world through despicable means! You've let the power get to your head! It will consume you from the inside!"

"So you fight to save me from myself?" Breedington said. "How noble! How naive! It will be the death of you! Those countless slain scream out in searing pain, and soon your voice shall join them!"

* * *

Tomorrow was an important day for Colonel Breedington. Tomorrow, his hypothesis would be proven: Which, in scientific terms meant "put to the test". It could be that he was right. It could also be that he was wrong. If he was wrong then he would die. If he were right, then like the four other survivors he would acquire powers that would set him up above other mortal men. He would become a kind of living god.

Britannia was the kind of culture that bred the desire to search for power and Breedington was no different. He had reached as high as his current level of power could manage, but he wanted something else. Something a little bit extra. He wanted a form of immortality. Not the literal kind, mind you. From what the witch had indicated that sounded like a kind of hell all to itself.

No. he wanted a less literal sort of immortality. The kind where one is talked about, remembered for their accomplishments, the contributions they have made to society. Not fleeting fame. The kind of person written about by history. The giants that shaped the course of human culture! He would stand among them, stand proudly. Thanks to Stand.

Or he would die, and still be remembered for his contributions to Stand research. Rather a win/win situation, so far as he was concerned. His son would inherit, and the boy had been better at maintaining his wicked temper of late.

As if to prove his thoughts wrong, the door to the study burst open and Colonel Breedington lifted his gaze to look upon his son, once again allowing his emotions to get the better of him, once again. Frederick stormed towards the desk, slapping both palms down upon it and staring down at him, right in his father's eyes with a burning vitriol.

"A Nine," he said. "Mother was a Nine. A filthy, rotten Number that you allowed to seduce you, while pretending to be a Britannian. So that she could have a higher rank in society than she deserved."

For a whole minute, Colonel Breedington said nothing at all. Instead he slowly closed the book he had been reading, an encyclopedia of Britannia's long and proud history, then stood up and like the crack of a whip used that very same thick hardback book to slap his son in the face, sending him reeling to the floor where he stayed for the rest of the conversation in spite of his very best efforts.

"Your mother," Breedington said, no trace of the rage he felt in his voice seeping out. "Your mother was an Honorary Britannian long before we ever met. She worked in service of the Empire. She died in service of the Empire. She did so happily, with no regrets. Please, son. Show a little respect for the woman that brought you into this world."

"You don't get it!" Frederick spat. "Now I can never join the Purebloods! They'll never have someone like me!"

"Then you are better off without them, if they will not have you," Breedington said, sitting back down and flipping his book back open. He didn't even spare another glance at his son during the entire conversation from this point forward, instead electing to read up on the Humiliation of Edinburgh. "It is my experience that those most willing to call themselves 'pure' often number among the most corrupt."

"You're a filthy traitor to Britannia," Frederick said, crawling backwards towards the door. "A filthy traitor!"

When the door closed, at long last Breedington released a sigh. "No, my son!" he said. "Only those that put themselves before the needs of the Empire are ever traitors. Marrying your mother, I did that even knowing that so called Purists would attempt to sabotage my career. I did it… Because it was in the best needs of the Empire to have such a brilliant woman leading their research into tomorrow."

Tomorrow. Yes. Tomorrow. By this time then, he would either burn brighter than ever before or be snuffed out like a candle. He idly wondered which it would be, and which he would prefer.

* * *

He wasn't moving quite as fast as he could do, that much was apparent. Kallen was already deliberately dropping her speed to ensure he could keep up. Obviously he had kept up this rock skin formation in case she had some other trap in mind, and the weight was slowing him down. It must be playing havoc on his stamina.

Was that the plan? Because it didn't make sense to her. Then again he hadn't quite explained all of it. _Just get him there._ He'd said, implying that it would become apparent why when she arrived. But no, she couldn't see it. What did he mean? What did he mean by universal weakness?

Another fact that was making her nervous was the invisible spirit apparently following this person around. It worried her for several reasons. What if he decided to send it out to attack while the shadow wasn't around to warn her where the attack was coming from? All she knew was that the plan was to taunt him into following her to a specific location.

Regardless of what his plan was, she could see the target up ahead. A pier. Not many people around. People that they'd passed on the street had shot them funny looks, but what the hell this was a life or death struggle. She didn't have time to worry about their curiosity at the moment.

She stopped on the pier, turned and stared at her reflection in the water. Here she was. What was the plan? It still didn't quite fit in her mind. What did he have in mind. _Universal weakness_. What did that mean?

The sound reminiscent of sarcastic applause broke out just to her left and behind her. She cast a gaze backwards and saw Frederick swaggering close, putting his stony hands together creating a clap that sounded far more solid than flesh against flesh.

"Bravo," he said. "Bravo. Did you think you could escape by swimming away? Try it. I've always wondered if it would be possible for me to turn a large body of water to stone. I'd rather like to see what happens. You've trapped yourself, girl. Just like this stupid former nation trapped itself. Trapped like a rat. A disease ridden numbered rat. You're about to breathe your last."

Inspiration struck Kallen like a bolt of lightning, and she must have hallucinated a shadowy hand pointing towards the water. No. It couldn't be. Could that be the plan? It was insane! And yet, as she turned it over in her mind she saw it. This would work. It had to work. It couldn't fail! She relaxed her body, took a single deep breath, closed her eyes.

"No. You've got that backwards," she said. "You're the one that's trapped."

Archimedes was an Ancient Greek mathematician, scientist, inventor and astronomer, well regarded by students of the history of science. A man that discovered many things, made many inventions and yet the most well known story about him may well not have happened at all. A mere anecdote with no real evidence for its occurrence, and no reference of it exists within the man's own works.

The story begins with King Hiero II, who had supplied pure gold for use in creating a crown. However, the King suspected that he was cheated, and that silver was substituted into the crown. Archimedes was therefore hired to settle the matter one way or the other without damaging the crown itself! The simplest means to determine density involved melting it into a regular shaped object and performing the calculations from there!

The great mind was therefore stumped, at least until he took a bath. At which point he noticed the level of the water rose as he entered. He realised that water was displaced from objects entering it, and further determined that the level of displacement was determined by an object's density! From this, it is believed that he was able to later determine what is now known as Archimedes' Principle:

Any object, wholly or partially immersed in a fluid, is buoyed up by a force equal to the weight of the fluid displaced by the object.

Kallen dove forward like a tightly wound spring, colliding into that solid rock body with all her weight and strength. This move must have shocked Frederick, who knew that she had to be aware this move could not hope to hurt him. But it was not her intention to hurt him. A fact that he realised far, far too late. She had not hurt him. She had thrown him off balance.

Kallen thought she felt something in her shoulder pop, but she had other concerns for the time being: Pushing Frederick off the other side of the pier. An expression of utter shock filled his face and he sank beneath the waves like a proverbial stone. Where he fell, there was a tremendous splash, a large ripple on the surface of the water, several bubbles… And Kallen very quickly dove right after.

The human body is buoyant enough to float within water, only because we have air within our lungs. By lying flat on our backs we ensure no effort need be expended in floating. Just breath in and out, relax and stay barely afloat. But if the human body was heavier, were it made of stone it would sink into the murky depths without mercy, without hesitation. No matter how strong a swimmer you were. Archimedes Principle. A crueler calculation than it may first appear.

Sure enough Frederick surfaced and Kallen allowed herself a smile. He was out of his element. On land, he was untouchable. But in the water he was helpless. He had no choice but to drop his stone form lest he succumb to the "universal weakness": The necessity of all animals on Earth, the ability to breath.

Deprive a human being of food for a few days, and they will begin to waste away. Deprive them of water and they will slowly wither until suffering from kidney failure. But deprive him of oxygen for a few minutes and anyone will keel over. Everyone knew this basic biological fact, and when submerged underwater the very first reaction anyone would have would involve doing whatever it took to reach the surface.

He was gulping in deep breaths of air, which made it easy to slip behind him. He was too busy coughing up water to notice her until the moment she covered that mouth with her hand and with the other was able to slip a knife into his back with about as much resistance as would be expected from flesh. He didn't have time to react with anything more than a strangled whimper. No more stone form. Nothing but flesh versus steel. From this position it was a comparatively easy matter to slide the knife through the skin and muscle tissue of his back and into his jet black heart. Blood seeped out of the wound, and Kallen hoped against hope that she hadn't been seen.

"Who was the disgrace again?" she asked as the life rapidly fled from his body. Naturally he did not answer. Instead his dead body began to sink into the water once again with a rising pool of red marking where he was. With a heavy sigh of relief Kallen turned towards the shore, knowing what she was going to see even before she turned around. Sure enough there he was. The shadow was staring at her.

Right. Time for a little friendly discussion somewhere nobody could see them. Somewhere dark. Somewhere she could maybe try to get the blood stains off her hands and clothes.

* * *

Every opening was blocked. Every attempt at a close range strike was cast aside by Man on Fire. Bullets melted before they came anywhere near. Slash Harkens were deflected. What was more, there was insufficient space for him to create the proper amount of distance in a quick enough amount of time.

The temperature within the cockpit was back to sauna levels. His breathing was heavy again. Neither of them were pulling their punches anymore, neither of them were trying to be fancy about anything. A straight out slugfest between two men in machines. And Suzaku, in spite of every advantage he had was losing.

Not because his opponent was landing more blows. Far from it, really. The trouble was that blows weren't really connected with any amount of frequency. But Breedington didn't need to hit directly. He just needed to raise the temperature in the area, which he had been doing. The warehouses they were fighting in front of had caught fire. They were in a heatsink. A hotspot that would make him faint, and it was obviously having no effect on Breedington at all.

"It'll take another five minutes for reinforcements to arrive I'm afraid," Lloyd said. "Do you think you'll be able to last that?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm going to faint before then, and then he'll be able to finish me off whenever he -"

The sentence was interrupted when a particularly potent jet of flame struck him full in the chest, causing Suzaku to scream out as the Lancelot was fully pushed inside an open warehouse. Mercifully the landing itself was pretty soft, but by the time he was back on his feet the Sutherland was standing ominously in the doorway.

"A perfect place for your tomb, I should think!" Breedington said. Suzaku watched through the infrared viewport as Man on Fire drifted down towards the switch for the door, and pressed it in. "The resting place for the White Knight."

The door creaked closed behind him, and Suzaku willed Lancelot to its feet. Even the controls were being affected by long exposure to the heat, and his body seemed to be under the impression that he had already passed out.

"I'll offer it again," Breedington said, as a pile of boxes to Suzaku's left caught fire. "Join with us, and we shall become a force for such tremendous change in the world. You want justice? We shall give it to you. Area Eleven will be yours to command as you see fit. How does that sound?"

"Like an offer from the devil."

Breedington laughed, and a pile of boxes to Suzaku's right caught fire. Lancelot stepped forward and nearly stumbled. No! Dammit, no! He couldn't die here. Not like this! Not while monsters like this still existed in the world, not in such a pointless manner!

"Suzaku, this doesn't look good at all! Your breathing is too rapid, your heart rate as well! You have to get out of there!"

He couldn't help but agree with Cecile. He looked around the room, at the rising temperature and imagined the flames of hell surrounding him. Now the temperature was even more contained than before!

"Care to give up?" Breedington asked. "Either you do, or you cook. Or you run out of oxygen. I won't, of course. My flames can't hurt me, and I have an oxygen mask in here for just such an occasion. If you want to breathe another breath of fresh air, you'll do exactly as I say!"

"No," Suzaku wearily and defiantly said. "I will not give up. But I will make you a counter offer. Turn yourself in, or I kill you right now."

"Kill me?" Breedington said, setting yet more of the warehouse contents aflame. "And how do you intend to do that? You're so exhausted that you can barely even move!"

Where others would take satisfaction in what he was about to do, Suzaku could find little. This man he was facing was vile, a blemish upon humanity that could not be captured, could not be tried for his crimes in a court of law. But this was a fight to the death. His enemy would not stop until he was dead, or until Suzaku shook the devil's hands. In which case he stared at the Sutherland. Stared at the grey metal. Stared at where the purple paint had been stripped away by heat. And he knew that it would work. He knew that Breedington might not be affected by temperature, but his Sutherland most certainly was.

"It will be easy. Those that recklessly use power only as a weapon are playing with fire."

With that certainty in mind, and the refusal of surrender Suzaku sprang into action with a tremendous leap backwards that took away the rest of his strength. Away from the Sutherland. Away from the enemy that would soon be very, very dead. Lancelot crashed against the window at the back of the warehouse and fell to the ground outside, completely immobile. Just like that, Suzaku had won.

Not because he had escaped the building, mind. Not because he was sucking in lungfuls of fresh air once again. It was not because he had left. It was because of what had entered as he had done so.

Oxygen is a rather volatile gas when you get right down to it. Just as much as humans and other animals need it, so does fire need it to burn. While he had been burning up the contents of the warehouse with such determination, Breedington had failed to really care much about the oxygen content of the room. Why should he? He had his own mask for breathing, his own supply to ensure he would not suffocate! The necessary precautions had been taken, yes? Suzaku would suffocate long before he would…

Except that was sort of the problem. The oxygen content of the room was low. At the very moment that Suzaku crashed through the window, in rushed a gust of oxygen like a breath of fresh air and the invisible fire gobbled it right up, reaching out for it like a man dying of thirst reaching for an oasis. But fire reaches so much faster, and with such a deadlier aftereffect.

The invisible flames consumed the Sutherland whole. The man inside didn't feel the heat but he didn't need to feel them to know how dead he was about to be. The metal twisted and bent around, before splitting. Compressing. Expanding through the heat. Breedington felt no rise in temperature, no discomfort of that nature in the slightest. It was the simple fact that his Knightmare was caught in a backdraft that did him in. His body was left impaled by debris, and by the time the firefighters reached the scene they were completely baffled by the man untouched by flames lying dead within the middle of a twisted wreck that used to be a Sutherland.

And as Suzaku closed his eyes when exhaustion finally caught up with him, his final conscious thoughts before it took him were "That was one. There are four others…"

**[To Be Continued |\|]**

Col Breedington, Man On Fire: Deceased

Frederick Breedington, Rock You: Deceased


End file.
